


Half agony, half hope

by meinposhbastard



Series: 2019 tropes fic challenge [5]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Blanket Permission, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Murder Mystery, Pining, Slow Burn, Victorian Attitudes, X-Men Big Bang Challenge 2019, not by Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-25 22:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/pseuds/meinposhbastard
Summary: Charles Xavier is a self-isolated recluse whose telepathy doesn't let him live a decent, headache-less life in the city, and who nurtures strong feelings towards his friend, Mr Lehnsherr.  Mr Lehnsherr who has no mutant abilities (that Charles has knowledge of) and who is one of the rising new money businessman in London.Nothing short of a murder would make Charles return to the city. So when Mr Lehnsherr asks for his help with the skittish mutant that appeared in his household out of thin air, he cannot refuse his friend. And Logan might be what they need to solve the mystery and convince Kurt to leave the house.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written for the X-Men Big Bang Challenge 2019.  
The art found in this fic is made by the lovely LilyManzo! You've been terrific during this collaboration, even when RL got to be a royal bitch! The masterpost with all the art pieces can be found [here](https://lilymanzo.tumblr.com/post/188432333547/art-i-did-for-the-xmenbang-for-the-fic-half/).  
Many thanks to Xim who took precious time to go through this fic. You are awesome!  
Any remaining mistakes are my own.  
And there might be. The last two chapters were written this week. The ending of this fic has fought me like nothing else has ever. But I hope I did the idea justice and that y'all enjoy what my feverish brain came up with for our darlings!

* * *

**_“Y O U pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.” _ **

** _ – Persuasion _ ** **by Jane Austen**

* * *

**.1.**

***

His leg wouldn’t stop jumping up and down as the carriage hurried along the forest road. Flicking open his pocket watch, and doing some quick calculations, he surmised that he should arrive at his destination right after supper. The light outside was becoming dimmer and dimmer, making it hard to distinguish the bare autumn branches from each other. 

The restlessness was the same as when his mother sent letters to his office where he was wont to be six days out of seven, cryptic and mildly ominous, that had his heart skip a beat even though he knew that she was an aficionado for mysteries and melodrama ever since Erik became the master of the household. That did not mean that he was spared the fearful thought that she might be in danger. Bless her heart, but she had a knack for getting herself in trouble when Erik wasn’t looking.

The particular trouble that produced such restlessness in him was what had him make the six hour trip towards the only person he knew that could help him.

“Thank you, Mr Powers,” Erik threw over his shoulder, already making his way up the stairs of the impressive Westchester manor, taking off the hat and passing it over to the hand where the cane was. “I’ll fetch for you later. We shan’t stay the night.” His voice echoed as he let himself in, the updraft dishevelling his hair.

The matter that hastened his steps couldn’t be impeded by such things as decorum. As such, the maid that probably heard the carriage and was on her way to open the door, jolted with a lady-like yelp when he hurried past her, which she stifled halfway before curtsying. No time to dally with anyone.

“Charles!” he called out even as he pushed open the doors to the sitting room.

As he knew already, not as much because of knowing Charles’ habits, but because of an innate sense of where the good doctor might be which he put on his gut instincts, Charles was sitting by the fire with Miss Darkholme. 

He stopped just two steps inside the warm room, bowing towards Charles’ ward as he realized how unbecoming he had been. 

“I apologize for intruding,” he said, maybe too late as the deed had been done. 

He put on the stoic face he made use of to hide his embarrassment, not comprehending why Ms Darkholme looked so amused by his _ gauche _entrance and lack of manners, before he turned his full attention on Charles. 

“Should I wait out—”

It was Charles’ turn to bestow an amused quirk of his lips towards Erik, and then a dismissing hand.

“No need. Good evening, Mr Lehnsherr. Please, come in. Raven and I were just enjoying a bit of small talk after supper. Has something happened?”

Erik pursed his lips, warring with himself. “We require your expertise,” he settled for in the end, feeling that he could say as much, that it was safe.

“Mr Lehnsherr, please, take a seat.” He didn’t move, and Charles didn’t seem perturbed or offended by this. At this point, he was most probably used to Erik’s usually brash and uncouth demeanor. “What is it that you require my expertise for? Has Mrs Lehnsherr stumbled upon another one?”

Erik was sure that his face contorted into some sort of unpleasant expression because Miss Darkholme tittered behind the embroidered white fan she constantly kept in her gloved hands. At least that was how Erik had always seen her whenever he visited. Pre-announced or impromptu.

“In a manner of speaking.” He hesitated, glancing at Miss Darkholme. 

Charles looked at his ward, the two exchanging a glance that did not last for more than a second or two, but that most certainly was the equivalent to a conversation, before his attention turned back to Erik.

“Do not worry, my dear Mr Lehnsherr, she is safe to talk around. Whatever you say, shall not leave this room. Now, what is it that had you make such a long trip here?”

His hands, now both holding the cane and the hat, were turning said hat over and over, not so sure about how to explain what had happened. It was a funny thing to happen to him, as if he did not spend six hours of the day thinking up scenarios and imagining Charles’ expressions and answers (always an affirmative). But what if Charles could not come or had other matters more important to do than what Erik was about to ask of him?

“He was sleeping when I left,” he began, latching onto the first thought that passed through his mind even as he saw the interest gripping Charles. “He’s— he’s scared. And alone. Mother couldn’t find out more because he passed out. He’s—”

“Yes?”

He glanced at Miss Darkholme. “He has a physical mutation.”

Delight suffused Charles’ face as it always did whenever he found something peculiar or strange. Mutations, physical ones in particular, seemed to be of great interest to this elusive man. Erik still had to discover how he could live apart from society and still keep his social status as somebody to gossip and make the most preposterous stories about, but not to be trifled with. 

Society might not see this self-isolation with benign eyes, but nobody seemed to dare whisper bad things about Charles or Miss Darkholme even in the most secretive places.

“That is spectacular!” His eyes were dancing with delight, which had become something Erik found pleasure in seeing. “We have met only two other with a physical mutation. Could you describe the mutation to me?”

He produced the letter his mother had entrusted to him before leaving, expressly prohibiting Erik from opening it. _ Charles Francis Xavier _ laid in cursive, neat writing on the front. He passed it over and watched as Charles opened it with almost impatient hands. For someone who always seemed so poised and in control of his actions and words, it certainly brought the shadow of a smile to Erik’s lips to see this man gripped by such a childish glee and curiosity to find out more.

He smoothed his expression when he realized that Miss Darkholme’s gaze was very much intent on his face.

“This is wonderful!” Charles said under his breath as his eyes pored over the letter. “He is truly spectacular!” And that was something he said about every mutant Erik brought up to his attention, no matter what mutation they had. “I need to see him, talk to him. He seems to be someone your mother knew.”

“Not as such,” Erik said, inclining his head. “His protector, Margali Szardos, was a good friend of my mother’s.”

“Was?”

He gave a curt nod. “She died yesterday under mysterious circumstances.”

“Are the Watchmen looking into it?”

At that, anger bubbled up to the surface and Charles became more wary, as if he stepped into enemy territory.

“From what I could gather this morning, they chalked it up as something natural. She died of a heart attack is what they said.”

“And you have doubts about that.”

Erik scoffed and looked at the fire. “I haven’t seen the body, but considering the fact that her protegèe appeared in my mother’s home out of thin air, I am inclined to suspect that it wasn’t a courtesy visit to announce the natural passing away of the person who kept him shielded from society.”

“So apart from a physical mutation, he seems to possess a secondary one,” Charles mused aloud, and Erik could see the spark in his eyes. “How interesting.”

“It might be possible that it’s a new mutation and not something he was born with,” Miss Darkholme added just as Charles was nodding still lost in his head. “Something could have triggered it.”

“He might have been a witness to what really happened to his protector,” Erik said and that had Charles snap out of it.

“Then our friend might very well be in danger if what you suspect is true. We shall depart tomorrow at first light. There is information that is missing both from the letter and from what you said. Information that we can only garner from our new friend.”

“I agree.” He put the cane under his arm. “I am glad that you are willing to come to London for this. I fear it might be too dangerous to bring him here without first assuaging his fears, and you have a natural inclination towards calming people down, doctor.” Another cryptic exchange between the good doctor and his ward. “Now, if you shall excuse me,” he inclined his head respectfully, “I have a long way back to make.”

Just as he was about to turn around, both Charles and Miss Darkholme stood up.

“Mr Lehnsherr,” Charles began, an almost desperate note in his voice, “you are not serious about enduring almost half a day of travelling back to London, are you?” Behind the cordial words and polite tone of voice, Erik could detect a tinge of apprehension. “It is past supper time and the roads are unsafe. There are plenty of rooms that could perfectly accommodate you and your coachman here.”

There, he hesitated. As a matter of fact, Charles was not entirely wrong. The path he took, the shortest one, was also the most dangerous one as it traversed the forest instead of circumventing it through the two villages.

“I should—”

“Stay the night,” said Miss Darkholme smoothly. “I hear that Swiss eggs are a favorite of yours, Mr Lehnsherr, and our cook makes the best, if I do say so myself.” 

That made Erik look at her and try to figure out if it was Charles who told her, seeing as he had spent countless mornings at their townhouse with Erik’s mother, or if Charles managed to put Miss Darkholme and his mother into contact while he wasn’t looking. He wouldn’t quite call it a top secret information, what he liked for breakfast, but it still felt like something he would have preferred to keep in the house. 

He threw Charles a glance, whose serene and angelic expression told Erik everything he feared to know.

“Miss Dakholme, your invitation is most appreciated, but I am not in the habit of being easily dissuaded from the path I chose or decision I made, least of all plied with food.” He had to make this clear to them both lest they would be prone to using such information to try and make him abide by what they wanted. “However, as Charles has said, the road is unsafe at this hour of the night, so I shall accept the offer.”

Amusement glittered in Miss Darkholme’s dark eyes, and she patted his arm.

“I knew you wouldn’t refuse,” she said, making it seem as if he agreed to stay because of the food. He had no qualms sending her a withering look, which she chose to ignore. “I shall tell Margherite that she should invite your coachman up to the kitchen and serve him supper.”

“Thank you, Raven,” Charles said, coming to stand at Erik’s side. “How unbecoming of me. Raven, could you also tell Margherite to heat up supper for Mr Lehnsherr? I shall have my evening tea in the dining room.”

“Shall be done,” she said, leaving them alone.

“Charles, you don’t have to worry about me. I had a hearty meal before leaving.”

“Nonsense! What host am I if I do not make sure that my guests are well fed and comfortable. Come, I would very much like to catch up with the gossip floating around our circles as well as how your business is doing. And Edie! Oh, you need to tell me how she has been doing and if Katherine still wants to pursue an education in Prussia.”

“She has renounced that idea, instead pursuing her endeavors in helping with charities around the block.”

“Such a sweet child. Although I mourn the idea that she would not receive such an esteemed education as the Prussians could offer, if she found her happiness elsewhere, then I am all the more happier for her.”

“She is still seventeen of age. I reckon she still does not know what to do with her future since marriage is off the table for now.” Charles nodded. “As for gossip, you know as well as I do that I find it tiresome.”

“No.” The lilt in his voice formed an impression about Charles’ current state of soul even though Erik couldn’t see his face as he was trailing after him. “Most of it you find unimportant and tedious, but I know for a fact that you are simply selective when it comes to it.”

“Are you implying that I am a gossip?”

“No such thing, my friend.” Not that the amusement he could hear in his voice was helping his case. “How about your business?” He changed the subject. “I take it it is going well.”

“It is. I am expecting a shipment of iron ore next week. We are nearly done with the parts we have been contracted for, although it had been a hassle to negotiate with Mr Craig to go for the pricey one, which, incidentally, is the one everyone is overlooking.”

“If only negligence and indifference were a crime in this society,” Charles added with an air of seriosity. 

“Exactly!” Erik jumped at the opportunity to gripe about some of his clientele as if it was his favorite bait (it so was). “For these ‘old money’ gentlemen, taking shortcuts at the expenses of the ship and their passengers is a risk they are willing to take, if it means less money.”

There was a strange feeling upsetting his stomach, but in a pleasurable way and he wasn’t sure where it came from as he knew very well how he felt about those gentlemen, and pleasure was the last sentiment he would ever feel.

“If you are in the ship industry,” Erik continued, ignoring the feeling, “then you need to make sure that your passengers are safe aboard your ship, but apparently old money means caution can be thrown out of the window. No offence to you, Charles, I know you are worlds apart from that ilk.”

“None taken, Mr Lehnsherr.” 

Again that tone of voice that sounded like Charles was trying hard to keep a laugh at bay. He would have liked to see the mirth dance in those expressive eyes. Alas, the view from behind had merits, too. Not that he had issues with the frontal one, but he felt better having Charles in front of him rather than behind. Certainly at his side would bring him more pleasure. He also hoped he wasn’t laughed at for being so displeased by the short-sighted sphere of gentlemen that made up the noble social strata of their kingdom.

“I know my metal like I know the inside of my pockets,” he continued because he wasn’t nearly done with venting his woes to his friend, “and I have proved to them time and again that depending on what they need the iron for, the price and quality of it varies. He cannot order ship parts made from imported iron as that is used for trinkets and smaller machines like the ones used in the factories across London. If he wants durability, then there is no choice but to go for the Middlesbrough ore.”

“I hope he did, Mr Lehnsherr, both for his company’s reputation but mostly for the benefit of his passengers. He would do well to trust your judgement as there has never been a gentleman in this era or past that could tell the difference between a good and a bad iron ore like yourself.”

Erik fell silent for a while, trying to discern what was bothering him. The moment he found it, he simply sighed.

“One of these days you need to tell me why you are such at ease with calling my mother by her first name, but not me.”

“Oh, do not start with that again, my friend,” he said, clearly amused by that, as he always was, “we have more important matters to discuss.”

“This is an important matter to me, Charles. You insist I call you by your given name to the point where you won’t answer to anything but Charles, yet you still use my surname.” They entered the dining room and Charles moved to take his seat at the head of the table. “Should I do the same and ignore anything you say until you use my given name?”

When they were alone, Erik let himself relax a bit and was, more often than not, prone to a bit of banter. Especially if it was Charles who was his conversational partner.

“That won’t work with me, old friend,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as Erik took his seat at his left. “You are, and always will be, a man of importance in this society.”

“You should visit your social circles more often, Charles. I am not considered that important. Not without noble blood in my veins, and, as you know, my family is exempt from that.”

“Ah,” he said, fluttering a dismissive hand, “gossip.”

“The currency of high society, as you well know.”

A servant brought soup, while another one brought Charles his tea.

“You do not consider the fact that this old money versus new money is a trend and will die out in a few years. The fact that more and more people make their own money instead of inheriting their fathers’ businesses speaks of the dawn of a new age, one that will not look so much at who your father and grandfather was, but rather what you are capable of. And you, my friend, are a very capable man.”

Erik took time to savour the hot soup, mulling over Charles’ words. There was only the clink of tableware for a handful of minutes, both enjoying the companionable silence. A sense of contentment descended upon him, more fulsome than he usually felt, but that might be because there, in Charles’ house, he could simply be himself, just Erik. No household patriarch or company owner. 

Only during these moments could he feel how much he coveted this, the easy friendship between them, his and Charles’ conversations, the calm of his manor.

“I appreciate the faith you put in me,” Erik said low, picking up on the intimate atmosphere they both plunged into, “but until that time comes to pass, I shall continue to be just a new blood trying to create a place for himself in high society. You should see how disdainful they are of this sphere of businessmen.”

“I do not need to see, my friend, I hear enough as it is. Why do you think I mostly live here, near-secluded from society? As much as I like socializing and meeting new people, I cannot stand idly by and hear that kind of gossip going around.”

“Yet, that’s the fastest way I am able to track down a special.”

Charles side-eyed him; he always did when Erik referred to mutated humans in any other mild way except mutant. He had heard that word expressed with enough anger, disdain, disgust and fear across the years to consider it something akin to a slur.

“Which is why you and Edie do a wonderful job at finding them— or them finding you. They know you wouldn’t harm them in any way.”

He made a so-so gesture with his head. “Not always. During the past three years since we know each other, I have had a handful of run ins with uncommons that were not particularly inclined to seek help and were rather aggressive.”

“Ah, yes, I do remember those,” he said with a displeased purse of his lips as he looked at Erik. “I hope Edie’s knee is better.”

“Not by much, but she gets by.”

Charles sighed in defeat and took another sip of his tea while Erik finished the soup. The servants were quick to clear the table for the second course which was leftover duck stuffed with prunes and square bits of apples.

“In any case, we find the gifted not because we actively look for them, but because more often than not they stumble upon us. And although trouble finds my mother without her trying, it is still a dangerous way of living.”

“You worry about her.”

“Constantly.” He didn’t even hesitate to acknowledge how important his mother was to him. “Ever since she lost my father, she concentrated her effort and time towards raising me and my sister. It is thanks to her tenaciousness and ironwill that I am who I am today. I want to care for her and offer her the same protection she did to me.”

At that, Charles covered the hand that was nearest to him which surprised Erik. From what he had come to know about this man, he wasn’t a very physical person and usually skirted away from touching people he did not know in and out. Granted, even though Erik frequently visited Charles, sometimes at the behest of his mother when she had enough of the city and wanted to relax in the countryside, and other times Charles made the trip to London and was Erik and Edie’s guest for a couple of nights, Erik wouldn’t consider himself to be Charles’ closest friend.

But sometimes, Erik was surprised by the liberties Charles took with him. Maybe they were heading towards a more familiar relationship and it was just Erik who tried to keep the status quo between them. Maybe it was time he allowed that friendship to grow closer.

“My friend,” Charles began, leaning over the corner of the table, eyes shadowed by the lamplight cascading from behind him instead of from the side, “you already do so much for her. You offered her the comfort and safety of a home, and you take care so that your sister can pursue her dreams instead of marrying her off. You are there when they need you, and always make decisions with their best interests in mind. So, really, you are the best son and brother anyone could ask for.”

The fact that there was a point of contact between them, and Charles’ eyes, although shadowed, seemed to glow with a certainty that Erik did not know where it came from, had him at a loss for words. Everything Charles said was true, but he still felt like he could do more for his mother than giving her what any head of the family would. 

Charles pursed his lips, hand twitching as if he thought about taking it away, but reconsidered almost in the same moment.

“You work too much, my friend. Maybe you should take some time off, leave the matters of your company in the capable hands of Janos and Miss Frost. They have proven time and again that you can rely upon them.”

Yes, and they were also gifted, which turned out to be useful. Especially Emma. They, together with Azazel had stumbled upon Erik four years ago at the summer ball Erik’s mother held in honour of Erik’s company having survived its first year on the market. That was when he met Charles and with his easy-going attitude they discovered the existence of special people. It was also the first time Erik had felt such a deep connection with another person, which he found bizarre to say the least. 

It took them no time at all to become close friends — until Charles decided to move to his Westchester manor and Erik was left bereft of his warm presence. Azazel followed Charles, but Emma and Janos wanted to stay in the city and help Erik with his company. And although he had been sceptical in the beginning as he did not have any referral for either of them, they soon proved to be the backbone of the company alongside Erik. 

Not to mention that Charles so easily called people, especially mutants, he found interesting by their given name. Unless that someone was a lady, then he would offer the courtesy of addressing her the correct and polite way.

But Erik persisted to be the exception to this quirk of his.

Sometimes it irked him, but most of the times he ignored it and left Charles to call him however he wanted.

He stared at the pale hand covering his slightly larger one.

“Maybe you are right,” Erik said, “but I do not think that that would make it less likely to encounter or have our home invaded by specials.”

Charles withdrew his hand, and before Erik could come to unpleasant conclusions, he caught the quirk of Charles’ lips. He used the rapidly cooling hand to take a slice of bread and finish eating his piece of duck.

“You do realise that calling mutants specials or gifted or uncommon will only result in you offending them, right?”

He saw ridges appearing on his own nose as he scrunched it up. “I have heard that name uttered so negatively across the years that I cannot bring myself to use it.”

“I know you care about them as much as I do, but there is nothing wrong with calling us mutants.”

His eyebrows lifted as he searched Charles’ face. “Us?”

He blinked, a moment of heavy silence which Erik could not comprehend. “I am sorry, my friend. Dealing with them for as long as I have has made my mind associate myself with them, so such slips will happen from time to time.”

Erik inclined his head, still regarding Charles and how his friend looked perfectly poised and perfectly interested in the contents of his teacup.

“You should be careful, then, when you come to London and visit your social circles. They might think of you as an exotic bird, but they would not refrain from embellishing the most preposterous stories about you if they catch the slip.”

The smile returned. “I appreciate your concern, my friend, but there is nothing to worry about. I always prepare myself mentally before stepping into the city.”

“Good. What you do for these strangers with powerful abilities is something not everybody would be able and willing to do, and something that I admire immensely in you, my friend. That being said, I would be most displeased to see your reputation tarnished by mindless, uncouth gossip. You deserve better than that. And if I could, I would clean their minds of any memory of you when you are not present, so that they would not be able to talk about you behind your back. Alas, that is just a foolish man’s fantasy.”

The silence stretched on until the final clink his cutlery made when he placed them across the plate, which signalled the servant that was waiting somewhere at his back to start clearing the table. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Erik said, turning his attention back on Charles because amids the commotion, the good doctor had said something.

“No, nothing, my friend. Just mutterings of an eccentric man, that is all.”

He studied his face, then smiled the kind of smile that he usually reserved for his mother and sister, warmer and more fulsome than the false, cold, social one. 

“But I have to disagree with you there,” Charles said, drawing in a breath. “I am not the only one who is willing to help these poor souls. Not every gentleman would do what you do. What every gentleman does is report them to the Watchmen, and then the mutants disappear without a trace.”

Erik nodded. “I have Janos look into this one, but they’re either well paid to keep a tight lid over it or the factions are so separated that they don’t actually know about what the other does.”

“I am more inclined to believe that somebody is paying them. We have had enough of those cases for the Watchmen’s reputation to be stained.”

He scoffed, taking a sip of the wine. “I would be shocked to find a Watchman who is not in somebody’s pocket already.”

A glance towards Charles showed the man contemplating something on the table.

“Maybe it’s best if Logan travels with us tomorrow. He could meet up with Janos and they could investigate more in depth. As you know, Logan has a useful nose that could get them further than Janos managed to at the moment.”

“Hm, not a bad idea. And they could cover more territory like that.”

Charles smiled, showing white teeth.

***

_ Foolish it is to care so deeply for his closest friend. _

Was he daft or did he fall on his head when he was little? He might as well have gotten on one knee and proposed to the man! That had been a very _ risquè _slip for his part. But how could he be expected to not want to confess when Erik was so honest and open with his admiration for what Charles did?

The headache was getting worse, so he poured himself two fingers of scotch. Being in Erik’s presence for so long was always a trying exercise in control for Charles, no matter how delighted he was to see him after two weeks of nothing. Granted, he was unable to completely shut his telepathy off like some physical manifestations could be hidden. There was always leaking of some kind or other.

Whispered thoughts, impressions, emotions, and if the feeling was strong enough, he would get the feedback without even concentrating on it. That was why he removed himself from the social circles, although every once in a while he visited London because Edie was a darling to spend time with, especially when she did nothing but indulge Charles in talking about her son. Katherine as well, but she was a mischievous young lady who thrived on teasing Charles relentlessly when it came to her brother and what Erik said about Charles whenever she would insist on talking about him.

He knew what Erik thought of him through indirect means, but having his closest family tell him and hearing the man himself utter the words were two entirely different things.

He had no idea how Erik would react to the knowledge that Charles knew about him more than the man knew about Charles. And not all of it was his mother spilling the beans, as it were, but mostly Charles’ ability to read minds, surface thoughts being the easiest ones to pick up without being detected by the mind he was reading.

“I’ll never understand your masochistic tendencies, Charles,” Raven said, stepping out from behind the curtain that partly hid the door that linked their rooms.

“I only entertained our guest, my dear, nothing close to being considered masochistic.”

_ Isn’t this pining becoming tiresome for you? It certainly does for me. I mean, if he hadn’t been raised properly, he’d have ignored me completely. He had a hard time keeping his attention on me for more than a handful of seconds at a time. _

“Whether or not he harbours even an infinitesimal part of the feelings you hint at, I am sure he does not let himself dwell on them. Besides, he is a respectable gentlemen and I am sure he has countless offers of marriage from which to choose. If I am able to remain his friend, then I would be content.”

He sighed when her hand squeezed his shoulder, Raven’s sympathy mixed with annoyance pouring unimpeded into Charles’ mind. He brought his hand to cover hers and take comfort from it.

“You’re hurting yourself like this,” Raven said, her low voice a balm to his headache. “And even though I know that it is frowned upon in high society for two men to lie together, I don’t think that he is of the same opinion. I am sure he feels a certain level of attraction towards you, otherwise he wouldn’t spend half the time you spend together simply staring at your face. Everybody knows you have pretty eyes, but he is taking the beauty gazing to a whole new level. So why not put a stop to this pining and confess?”

He turned his gaze towards her blue form. “It is not only about my feelings, darling. He might feel attracted to me in some way, but that does not mean that if I confess, my feelings will be accepted. And I do not want to risk our friendship for anything in the world. He is not a mutant himself, although I have an inkling that is not entirely true, but he is willing to help us help our kind find shelter and take control over their powers away from the judging eyes of society. If that means enduring sparring visits from him every few weeks and a platonic friendship, then so be it. His, Edie’s, and Katherine’s help makes our work here easier to accomplish. I do not need to subject myself to a sea of minds very often.”

She sighed in defeat. “Very well, Charles,” she said, sadness trickling in as she turned her head. “Do as you wish, but I see this ending in tears, just so you know. You can calm down now.”

A moue of annoyance darkened Charles’ features. “I am quite calm, my dear.”

“Not when I prod you about your unrequited love for your unofficial husband.”

He felt the lines between his eyebrows deepen.

“That is unbecoming and immensely impolite, Raven. He will never— it is impossible to— he cannot be—” 

She rolled her eyes and Charles was preparing to lecture her about etiquette and manners to cover for his inability to even utter such an intimate word, something he knew she despised on principle, just to get even. She knew how much talking about his feelings for Erik unsettled him, so he couldn’t understand why she kept inciting him to examine them and, most horrendous, act upon them.

But to avoid a confrontation that he knew would be forthcoming, as his sister was a woman with an _ opinion, _ he chose to send the general lines of his conversation with Erik directly into her mind— meaning just the very last bit. He took another sip of his scotch, his headache receding since he lightened his barriers to the bare minimum to keep his emotions from spilling into Raven’s mind.

“Are you sure you want to bring Logan in the middle of civilisation?” she said, after a moment of silence.

“Are you saying that our home is not populated by civilised people?” he challenged with a quirk of his eyebrow.

The glint in her eyes mirrored his. “You know very well what I mean by that.”

“He knows how to behave.”

“He also knows how to throw caution to the wind and show his less favourable side.”

“I’m sure he will be on his best behaviour. Janos will be there to act as a buffer between Logan and, as you put it, _ civilisation.” _

“Janos is also a man of few words.”

“Which is a perfect partner for Logan.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why do I even listen to your plans? This is not a chess game, Charles. They’re not pawns with pre-set moves. They’ll make mistakes.”

“That’s how we learn, Raven,” he said as he let her take his tumbler from his hand and down it in one go before taking a seat on the settee at the foot of his baldachin bed. _ “Errare humanum est. _And that is what makes us human, still, despite our abilities.”

“But _ perseverare autem diabolicum.” _

He showed his delight at how easily his adopted sister managed to fill in the Latin phrase, with a nod and a smile because that meant that all those hours spent imparting his knowledge with her were not wasted.

“Which is why our job is to intervene and guide them away from repeating the same mistake before it becomes a habit.”

“I still need someone who can help me coordinate our growing stash of mutants. Logan is more of a drill sergeant than a leader, and you’re not always there to guide them.”

“Raven,” he said, reproachful at the way she referred to their dozen mutants that still resided with them. 

The older ones chose to go travelling or join one of the many secret organisations or cults that the Victorian society was rife with. In a way, what Charles did had the stamp of such a thing.

She rolled her eyes once again. “Oh, shush, you love-struck man. When you grow a spine and confess to your dashing man, then you can come and lecture me on what to call the mutants I’m in charge of.”

He sighed and conceded the point. Just that once.


	2. Chapter 2

**.2.**

***

Kurt Szardos, neè Wagner, was a wonderful man who, at first, was wary of Charles even though Edie promised him she would not let him be alone with anyone he was not comfortable with. It took Charles a while to get the man to open up and let his guard down. He didn’t want to make use of his telepathy, but he had to show him that, really, they weren’t that different when it came down to it.

He didn’t get much from Kurt’s mind, just shadows and echo-y voices that melded together. But one thing he was sure of: Kurt would recognise them if he ever saw them again.

“What do you think, my dear Charles?” Edie asked when they left Kurt in the company of her daughter, Katherine. “He seems to be taking the whole situation in stride. I did promise him that he was welcome to stay here for as long as he desired. Margali was a dear friend of mine.” 

Her face darkened with both sadness and fury at having such a person unjustly taken away. Charles had to put more effort into his shielding as the powerful feelings were bleeding over. 

“They’ll have the funeral on Monday,” she said after she recomposed herself.

“He is a remarkable mutant.” Charles stopped and let Edie enter the sitting room before following her on the settee near the window. “And it is as Raven and Erik suspected: the teleportation is a secondary mutation that spontaneously manifested because of what happened to his protector.”

“She was murdered in cold blood,” she said low, fixing a point on the carpet. “If I could, I would visit upon them the same cruelty they committed!”

Charles took her hand between his own and slowly pushed reassurance and a sense of calm into her mind. Physical contact seemed to work better and faster.

“Edie, my dear, do not upset yourself so. Logan and Janos are already tracking down possible witnesses and clues as to who the hooded figures were. We shall have the names of the criminals in no time.”

Edie placed her free palm over her forehead and took deep breaths before she regaled Charles with a smile.

“Thank you, Charles. I do not know what came over me. I am better now, though, and I shall trust your and my son’s men to find the wretched people who did this to poor Kurt.” The fire in her eyes gave way to a shrewdness Charles knew all too well. “Now tell me, how are things going with my son?”

He blinked, expecting some blunt questions or remarks from her, but still not quite prepared to have his suspicion confirmed. Alas, like mother like son.

“I— I do not think I understand what—”

She chuckled as Mrs. Thompson, their most loyal and trusted maid, came in with a tray filled with teacups, a steaming kettle, and a small plate with biscuits. 

“Thank you, dear Mrs. Thompson,” Edie said as the maid curtsied and left. “Oh, Charles, with your gift and you still try to make me believe that you don’t know what I mean? Darling, I am not a stranger. Haven’t been since the time you accidentally whispered into my mind what a fine gentleman my son was, along with some images that we shall not mention in polite company.”

Charles resisted the urge to touch his warm cheeks, and instead made himself busy with the kettle and pouring tea into Edie’s cup, then his.

“That had been a blunder on my part I will never repeat in the company of others.”

“I should hope not,” Edie said, all prim and lady-like, as she accepted the teacup Charles offered her and took a delicate sip. “Those compliments should be reserved for my son only.” She leaned towards Charles and continued in a low tone, “even the less savoury ones.”

“Edie!” He almost spilled the tea on himself. “I would not be so ill-mannered as to make inroads into his mind!”

She fell silent after that and the only sounds the room held were those of the teacups being placed on the saucer only to be lifted moments later.

“You did not tell him.”

Charles pursed his lips, knowing well what she meant, then glanced at her. “Does he need to know?”

It wasn’t the usual ‘he is better off not knowing’ or ‘I will tell him’ or ‘when things settle down, I shall break the news to him’ and the last one he used: ‘I have tried to tell him, but it is never a good time’. But something less sure, less in control than he would have liked. Even though Edie and Katherine accepted this infatuation that later became something much more serious and deeper since they first found out, Charles was still not so sure that he could risk his friendship for something that, for one, wouldn’t have a future, and for two, would reflect back on Erik’s reputation and, without reserve, upon his company.

Erik had a successful business that thrived even in times when other companies suffered losses. That had attracted, over the years, numerous people who have tried to harm him in some way or another. It had been only after being reassured that Miss Frost and Janos had his back, that he finally felt at ease retreating to his manor and taking a prolonged break from constant headaches. Erik was in safe and capable hands. And Ms Frost had no qualms reading other people’s minds.

“He will have to at some point.” She placed the teacup on the table, and took his hands between hers. “Charles, my dear boy, why are you so afraid to tell him? It mustn’t be because you worry he might reject—” Charles refused to meet her searching gaze. “Oh dear.” The hand was on his shoulder. “He will not. Believe me, my dear, he would never dream about rejecting who you really are. He might be set in his own ways, but you, Charles, are someone he holds dear, close to his heart. You mean the world to him.”

At that, Charles could not help but summon a smile, weak as it may have been.

“Thank you for the comforting words, but we both know that he’s a man who does not wear his heart on his sleeves.”

Edie pursed her lips in the fashion she did when she was crossed with something Erik said— which was more often than not.

“If there is something he took from me, is this insufferable trait that impedes him from showing his emotions to the ones he should.”

Seeing the opportunity to change the topic of discussion towards less personal matters, Charles leapt at it.

“I thought it was the stubbornness he took.”

Edie threw him a deadpan look that made Charles think of Erik when people were deliberately obtuse with him.

“That would be his late father.” She sighed. “Alas, that daft man got what was coming for him.”

He never asked about the missing paternal figure and Edie never regaled him with more than tidbits of vague information here and there. They fell, once again, into a companionable silence. The moments spent alone with her were the closest Charles could ever get to feel what it was like to have a maternal figure around.

*** 

He had to leave Charles almost as soon as they reached his home. A greeting, followed by a kiss on his mother’s cheek, a goodbye to both her and Charles, his eyes lingering on Charles was all that he could spare as he instructed Mr Powers to take him to Eisenhardt & Lehnsherr. Mr Howlett stayed behind with Charles to settle in and talk to Mr Wagner about the criminals.

“Mr Lehnsherr, sir,” one of the employees appeared in the open doorway as Erik was poring over a register to make sure everything was in order. “We received notice from the other docks that there was a storm on the Atlantic, so the shipment due early this afternoon might be delayed.”

That did not bode well. “No letters from the captain of the ship?”

“None, sir. They might have sent a pigeon, but I do not believe they’d risk that if they were caught in the storm.”

Erik stood up and walked to the left of his desk where a map of all the seas and oceans that his ships were coming from was splayed on the wall.

“Eight weeks ago _ Theron _ started its journey towards our country, and hit the first storm, which they anticipated, after two weeks. Last week we received a letter stating that they had six days until they’d reach us,” he took a compass from his desk and measured the distance between one territory and the other, muttering to himself, “so if they were hit by a second storm, that would put them somewhere around here and off course.” He traced a semicircle with his index finger around the point he kept one leg of his compass on. “That means that it would take them three more days to get here. Bollocks!” he muttered, then louder, “it puts us five days behind schedule. Henry, please tell Miss Frost to come here.”

“Right away, sir!”

Even after the man departed from his office at the opposite side of the hangar where they unloaded the shipments and worked the ore, Erik still didn’t move away from the map. They did anticipate a sea storm, but not a second one this close to England. He had to talk to Ms Frost about what they should relay to their clients.

Emma Frost was the kind of woman Erik had never succeeded in figuring out, and it had nothing to do with her mutation. Then again he never tried and if Miss Frost was asked, she would tell you that Erik was unable to figure out _ any _woman that pranced before him. He couldn’t even disagree on that account, not when he kept receiving marriage offers left and right to the point where he opted out of social gatherings more often than not, excusing his absence by way of his work.

That did not impede the mothers and sometimes fathers to write letters and send them to his office, which was most unfortunate as his workplace was the only one where he felt in his element.

He threw his metal compass on the table, expecting it to slide right off on the other side, but it stopped right next to the open metal box filled with papers and registries he still had to go through.

He sighed and passed his fingers through his styled hair, cursing under his breath when that action dishevelled it a bit. Sitting down, he opened the second drawer where he took the mirror, not before feeling as if the handle touched his palm before he touched it. But he chalked it up on the metal around his office and the fact that steel in general had a way of being not quite animated, but not quite still either around him. It didn’t happen to anybody working there as far as he could tell, but then again, nobody spent as much time there as he did.

“I see vanity has finally found you,” Miss Frost said, appearing in the doorway with her usual little smile that did not reach her eyes. Her blond curls bounced about her face as she made her way towards his desk and placed a letter with a familiar sigil on it.

Erik frowned at the letter, but did not make any move towards it. 

“Letter from Countess Dubbone,” she said as if his face was painted with the question he wanted to ask. “You’re moving up the social ladder, _ sir.” _

Still frowning, he took it and placed it in the last drawer along the other letters.

“I have no interest in doing that. As you can see, I am perfectly fine where I am right now. Whyever did you accept such a letter when I expressly told you to send them back?”

“You don’t received letters from such esteemed parties, so I thought that you might want to see what it says. Maybe it’s not an offer for marriage; maybe she wants to employ your incomparable skills for something pertaining to the iron area.” Erik’s hand twitched where it lay on the desk, and Miss Frost saw it, as a more knowing smile crested her thin lips. “We will never know,” she finished, taking the only other chair in the room beside the one Erik was sitting on. “Now, about the possibly late shipment from the American colonies…”

And off they went discussing business as they always did, because Miss Frost did not hold the position she did just for her pretty face and fashionable dresses. She was a woman with a knack for business, not to mention that her ability always came in handy when he dealt with a particular difficult client. For that Erik was grateful because more often than not, subterfuge went right over the top of his head, which was why every gentleman who did business with them was accustomed (and had to agree) to Miss Frost taking part in the negotiations _ and _putting in her two cents. 

He learned early on to have this stipulated in the contracts, which made a lot of gentlemen refuse to work with Erik— only to have them come back when the other companies did not deliver the product they promised.

***

“Hey you!”

Kurt almost teleported himself back to his room, his most recent haven that slowly extended to a few other rooms on the first floor. His ears twitched, turning his attention slowly towards the source of the gruff voice.

A man in his late thirties stood at the top of the stairs.

“Are you talking to me?” He made an effort to keep the German accent out of it, as he also concentrate on making correct sentence structures.

“D’ya see anybody else around?” he said, the words sounding condescending to Kurt’s knowledge of the English language, but the tone of voice was mostly neutral, if a bit amused.

Kurt squinted as the man closed the distance between them. The fight or flight instinct went on high alert with each step the man took. He stopped, though, short of being too close to Kurt.

“Happen to know where my room is in this house? It’s much smaller than the labyrinth at Westchester, but I still can’t figure out where it is.”

“Um, shouldn’t the maid showed you?”

“That old gal told me to find it by myself ‘cause she has dinner to prepare. Real chummy lady there. So, where is it?”

Kurt’s palms, although covered in fine fur, felt like they were sweating. That man was everything Kurt stayed away from, and not because the attackers had, more or less, the same build as he did, although they were taller and spoke with a strong Cockney accent, but because the man felt like he was dwarfing the hallway just by standing there.

He was unsettled.

“Any— any details about how the room ist?” He berated himself for that slip, but he was too nervous to correct himself.

“Something about green and view to the street.”

“Ah, that might be the one at the end of the hallway,” he indicated vaguely with his arm behind him, keeping the man in his sight. “On the left.”

He nodded, though there was something in the man’s eyes that made Kurt feel divested and vulnerable. He kept himself very still.

“Thanks, Elf,” he said.

They kept their gazes locked as the man passed by him, and Kurt didn’t let him out of his sight until he closed the door to his room. It didn’t occur to him that he should have corrected the guest and introduce his name. But it might be better if few knew his name, although his appearance would not help him pass unnoticed.

***

Charles did not see much of Erik after they arrived at his city house. Granted, he and the two Lehnsherr women made ample use of their combined social natures to try to get Kurt to open up more, and they mostly succeeded but nowhere near as much as Charles would have liked to. So after two days of catching up with Edie and Katherine he decided that it was time to pay Erik a visit.

“How did you find Kurt?” Charles asked Logan, who was sitting opposite him in the carriage.

“Scared and on guard. Don’t think he’d tell me anything.”

“Maybe if you looked less intimidating, you might have a chance.”

Logan scoffed and perused the buildings and people outside the window, ever on alert. Since he tracked down Charles and installed himself in the Westchester manor, he had gradually become Charles’s bodyguard, although Charles repeatedly told him that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. 

“I’m a tough love kinda guy,” Logan muttered from the semi-shadows the small curtains allowed.

“Most people wilt under such love,” Charles said, assessing Logan’s usually closed off stance.

The carriage began to slow down.

“Then I’m not the best person to try an’ have ‘im open up.”

“I never said he is most people,” he said with a glint in his eyes and got out before Logan could say anything in edgewise. “Thank you, Mr Powers,” he called back to Erik’s coachman, as the man tipped his hat and spurned the two black stallions onward. 

Logan would get off a little ways down the street to talk to a certain Mr Nightshade, his informant in the city.

He nodded at Mr Burton, the guard, who smiled and nodded back although he had only ever seen Charles once or twice since Erik employed him.

"Good evening, Ms Frost," Charles greeted, stopping just inside her office, taking off his hat before approaching her desk.

"Good evening, Mr Xavier," she said, the morning sunshine cascading over her pale blue satin shoulders and white sleeves. "I received notice that you were in the city."

He regaled her with a small smile. "You must excuse my poor manners for not coming by earlier." He took off the leather gloves and put them in the right pocket of his dark grey wool coat. 

“Of course.” She inclined her head graciously. “I much prefer interacting with you personally rather than through messages.”

Charles understood the cryptic way she spoke as one could never be too sure who was eavesdropping, not in that kind of setting.

_ How is Mr Lehnsherr? _

_ Stressing in his office, most probably, _ she replied easily. _ A shipment has been delayed due to a seastorm. Janos is usually the one who talks sense into him, but he is rather busy at the moment. He's spending too much time in his office, not to mention stressing his employees. I'll start getting cramps in my legs if I have to keep making trips to his office because people are afraid to approach him. _

_ Oh dear. Then I mustn’t disturb him. _

Not that he wouldn’t do that anyway, but it would go against him to come across as too forward. Or taking too many liberties in a place that did not belong to him. It had always tickled his curiosity to come and see Erik’s workplace, see him in his element as it were. They have been acquainted for almost five years and that was the third time he set foot in his company. He couldn’t deny the butterflies that were coming to life in his belly, not when he knew that the man was so close. 

The glint in her eyes spoke of amusement and a shrewdness that he often saw in Edie’s eyes.

_ Nonsense, Mr Xavier. I rather insist you go greet him. He’s been holed up in there since early in the morning. The workers weren’t even here when I came in and saw the light further down the hangar. I’m sure you would be a welcome distraction. _

Then she leaned a bit to the side. “Mr Howlett,” she said in her cool, professional voice, “please stop intimidating our workers.”

He scoffed when Charles turned to look at him just as a young man was scurrying away. “Are you done here, bub? I need to get goin’. Still much to cover, if we’re to catch them by nightfall. Where’s Janos?”

“Mr Quested is on the docks supervising the unloading of the latest shipment,” Ms Frost supplied, meeting Logan’s glare head on.

“Right then,” Charles got in to interrupt the animosity between the two. 

“Oh,” Ms Frost said, leaning back into her chair, before she opened a drawer and took out a creamy envelope with a red sigil on it. “Before you go, might I indispose you with this letter that arrived this morning? I would have delivered it to Mr Lehnsherr myself, but as you can see I am knee-deep into paperwork and the workers are all busy.”

“Certainly,” Charles said graciously, taking the letter and blinking at the familiar sigil.

He glanced up at Ms Frost to make sure that what he saw was real. She only smiled that professional smile that told Charles she wouldn’t be giving any more information.

“Well then, we shall go on our business. It was a pleasure talking to you, Ms Frost.”

“The pleasure has been mine, Mr Xavier,” she said with a smile that warmed her expression a tad.

He didn’t go to kiss her hand as it was wont to do when in the company of a lady only because she had dismantled that notion years ago when she had told Charles in no uncertain words that if he wanted to keep her company he better refrain from any kind of physical touches with her. And Charles abided by a lady’s demand when her comfort was in question.

“Why do you need to make nice with her?” Logan said gruffly as they made their way towards the cubicle where Mr Lehnsherr’s office was. 

“Because we are gentlemen and it is unbecoming to treat a lady with anything but respect.”

“Until she stabs you in the eye or tries to see how sharp her shoes are.”

Charles side-glanced his friend. “You really need to tell me what happened to you before you found us.”

“No can do bub. Past stays in the past. And no prying.”

He lifted his free hand in reassurance. “I won’t. I give you my word.”

“Does he know?” asked Logan, chin motioning towards the wooden frame of the office they were heading towards.

“How special she is?” He waited until Logan nodded once, picking up on the thought Logan directed at him. “Yes.”

“But not you.”

Charles stopped at the corner of the office, assessing Logan. “Some things are better left in the dark, my friend.”

Logan rolled his eyes hard and simply left in search for Janos. With a small sigh, Charles rounded the corner and climbed the two plywood steps only to stop in the doorway, robbed of any kind of common sense.

Erik had his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a haphazard fashion, as if he had no patience nor time for such a menial task. His shirt was tucked neatly into his black pants, both garments hugging the man in all the right places as he kept bending down on the table that was pushed under the map of the known world. The broad back, muscles shifting under a canvas of white, tempted and succeeded in making Charles caress with his eyes alone all the way down to the small of his back, gaze gliding over the perfect curve where those pants clung to his— 

“Charles?”

And back up his gaze went to a tired, yet surprised face. 

He wanted to card his fingers through his hair like Erik did multiple times by the looks of it, but he would try to push back the errant locks that were falling over his temples and into his eyes and make this impossible man look put together even as Charles felt himself unraveling at the seams. He exerted incredible control over the little ticks that wanted to escape, like the biting of his lower lip or the flexing of his fingers to stay his nerves. Instead he summoned a smile and stepped into Erik’s office.

“Good evening, Mr Lehnsherr. I find you incredibly tired. Might I convince you to come and join me for a cup of tea?” he said with a pleasant smile that widened by the second.

Even as tired as he was, Erik’s smile was beautiful, more so when it crinkled at the corner of his eyes and brought more light to them. Again, it took Charles all the self-control he possessed not to move from where he was standing, mere two steps away from the man.

“As tempting as that offer is,” Erik said, playing at the little game. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. But do illuminate me as to the reason of your delightful presence.”

The smile stretched impossibly on Charles face, the muscles straining. Erik did not help as he, too, was trying to keep his own grin at bay and failing as spectacularly as Charles was.

“Mr Lehnsherr, you flatter me so,” he managed to get out, unable to keep the amusement out.

“My pleasure entirely.”

And if that didn’t tick the wrong thoughts in Charles’ mind, nothing else would.

He cleared his throat. “But to answer your inquiry, I was just passing by and decided that I should pay you a visit, considering that you’re more here than at home— is what I’d like to say, but in truth, Logan came to take Janos for another hunt through the winding streets of London, and I tagged along.”

Erik frowned. “You’re not thinking about joining them, are you?”

Charles blinked, opened his mouth to deny such an assumption, but then something came over him. An impulse. And he felt many impulses around Erik, but this one was rather new.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

The response seemed to rattled Erik more. “Charles, those are dangerous men out there. The streets are not safe for a gentleman like you.”

Well now, that in itself put Charles off. As if he wouldn’t be able to fend for himself when he could— 

“Yes, you are right,” Charles said, looking over at the map to try and temper the frustration bubbling under his skin. Erik was not in the know about his power.

He looked over at a relieved face, a smile worming its way up. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity to reveal what Charles could do. He was so deep into his thoughts that the loud clang of a metal bar falling to the floor jolted both of them. 

“Sorry,” Erik muttered, looking back at the bar in question, “I mustn’t have secured it on the table.”

Charles sighed and passed his tongue over his lips, only to be surprised at the slight sting he felt, as if he had been worrying it for some time now.

“Well, all the same,” he said, pulling Erik’s attention back to him, as he extended the letter he had almost forgotten about. “Ms Frost asked me to deliver this letter to you.”

Erik’s eyebrows climbed a notch on his forehead, before they were pulled down into a frown when he saw the sigil. He made to put it away on his desk when something stayed his hand.

“Is something the matter?” Charles inquired.

“It’s an invitation,” Erik muttered as he opened the letter and read it. “For me, my mother and you. We’re invited to Countess Dubone’s ball, tomorrow night,” he said as he was reading, his frown not letting up. “At the end of which an announcement shall be made regarding—”

“Regarding what?” Charles said, taking a step closer as if to try and peek at the letter, but stopping himself at the last minute.

Erik met his gaze. “It seems to be an engagement party.”

It was quite impossible for one’s heart to stop beating, but for a fraction of a second Charles would swear that his just did the impossible. And then he received a wave of jumbled thoughts and impressions from Erik because he forgot that his shields were always weak when he was in Erik’s presence, as if it was harder to shield from his friend than from the entire population of London.

But he understood enough of the unloaded information to have a question slam into the back of his teeth. He found it hard to chisel himself and clear away any kind of apprehension he was feeling.

“Is it your engagement that—”

“What?” Erik interrupted, leaning back as if Charles had slapped him. “No, of course not. I’ve received a couple of letters from— but I’ve never ans— where did you get that idea?” He turned a guarded, suspicious eye on Charles.

Oh, look, another opportunity for Charles to come clean and tell Erik that Ms Frost is not the only telepath in town. 

His eyebrows shot up, and his words came out somewhat defensive. “You are one of the few eligible bachelors in the city who can boast a good reputation and ownership of a company who continues to flourish despite adversities. You’ve never been caught in scandals and you’re doing a stellar job of both taking care of your company and your household. It doesn’t take much to see why such a personality would send marriage proposal letters to you.”

Never let it be said about Charles that he did not let such opportunities pass him by with a nod and a goodbye wave.

Erik blinked. “You know more about my reputation than my next door neighbour.”

“Well, I have my sources.” Off of Erik’s befuddled look, he tried to change the subject. “If I had a daughter, I would surely write such a letter to you.” And if his foot would ever find his mouth, this would be that moment.

“That’s…” Erik struggled to find his words. “I appreciate the thought, I suppose.”

Charles was mentally applying his palm to his face.

“What I meant to say is that it is not hard to believe that you would be a preferred choice for noble daughters, despite what you think about your lineage.”

That seemed to garner Erik’s attention as he placed the letter down on the desk and proceeded to lean his — rather distracting — backside against it, feet crossed at the ankles and arms across his chest. He composed an image that Charles both drank in and dreaded in equal measure for it would not be easy to push away from the fore of his mind.

“What about you, old friend?”

“What about me?”

“I have never seen you receive such a letter or even ponder upon such matters.”

Ah, that was easy. He smiled his charming smile, following the bobbing of Erik’s Adam apple with his gaze.

“Who would want such a man as myself?” Erik lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at such a stereotypical thing to say and Charles sighed to not roll his eyes. “I am a recluse, need my alone time, and my thoughts are hard material for polite company,” he ticked them off his fingers.

Erik shifted his legs and leaned a bit forward, placing his hands on the edge of the desk. Charles felt as if the air between them had been sucked away just by Erik occupying more centimeters between them. 

“Besides,” he continued, his voice wavering a bit, “I can’t allow just anybody in, can I?”

“Why not?”

Charles cocked an eyebrow. “You know as well as I do why that is.” Erik nodded once. “So why bother entertaining such an idea when it would be too time consuming.”

He tilted his head to the side, as if changing the angle from which he pinned Charles with his gaze alone would give him more insight into what Charles just said.

“But you surely want someone with whom to share your time.”

Charles assessed his face, nothing left to chance, everything guarded or hidden.

“Of course I do,” he said, and that seemed to spark something in Erik’s eyes. “That’s why I have Raven and Logan, and you, Edie and Katherine when you visit.”

A shadow fell over the glint. “But that certainly does not always cover what you need.”

Charles frowned, even though he knew what Erik was trying to say. The irony of this situation was that Charles couldn’t very well come forth and tell Erik everything, even though he found Erik open to listening and maybe understanding where Charles was coming from.

“Please do enlighten me as to what I need, then.”

Whoever said that Charles would make it easier for other people to understand him?

“It’s in human nature to need a soul with whom to share the joys and sorrows of life.”

That caught and scratched at something deep inside Charles. “If we are talking about human nature, then I must extend an invitation for a cup of tea and comfortable armchairs to sit on,” he said, maybe sharper than he had intended to.

“Charles,” Erik stood and his upper body jolted slightly as if he wanted to make another move but stopped himself at the last moment. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I was not offended,” he said, _ getting _offended.

“Maybe not,” he reconsidered. “But you certainly did not agree with the turn our conversation took.”

“Not—”

“Bub,” Logan interrupted them from outside the door, Janos behind him, “we’re gon’ take to the streets. See what we can find. We’ll pro’lly be back late tonight.”

“Of course,” Charles said with a nod. “Alert me if anything happens.” 

With a sharp nod, they both left and Charles was, once again, left with this impossible man who looked at him as if he was expecting Charles to tell him the secrets to his own mind in one breath.

“How would he be able to alert you if things went wrong?”

A half smile, devoid of warmth was offered. “We have our ways.”

It still did not appease Erik’s suspicious look, but he let it slide. Charles took out his gloves, pouring his whole attention into putting them on as slowly and as fastidiously as possible.

“Well, I shall be on my way.”

“We didn’t finish our conversation.”

Charles paused for a second, before continuing to work on the end of his shirt sleeve and overcoat.

“We could finish it over a game of chess at your home,” he amended.

“Is this mother’s ploy to have me home for supper?”

Charles threw him a mock-affronted look. “How impolite of you, Mr Lehnsherr, to assume that it is not, in fact, _ I _who devised this ploy with that specific end in mind!”

Erik dissolved into chuckles, warm and rough around the edges, the kind that made Charles wonder how they’d feel if he’d put his ear to his chest. Foolish thoughts. He finished putting on his gloves, so he took his hat between his hands to keep them busy.

“Tell you what,” Erik said, notes of laughter still present in his voice, “if you can spare two more minutes, I shall join you.”

“Oh dear, am I hearing that right?” Charles said with a mock-surprised look. “Are you actually leaving work like a normal person just to be home for supper? Whatever shall your neighbor gossip about?”

Passing by Charles, Erik threw him a smirk full of mischief, the kind that he usually saw in the younger mutants right before they pranked somebody. He had to flex his shoulders to dissipate the tension that had been gathering between them.

“Do not fret, my friend,” Erik said cheekily. “There will always be something for Mrs Cook to gossip about no matter how impeccably one goes through life. And perhaps I simply desire to finish the conversation we started. It seemed like a topic that touched sensitive chords.” 

He turned that boyish smirk on Charles as he shrugged on his overcoat and scarf. It made him look devastating and one second away from doing something rakish and unforgettable.

“Dear me,” Charles said, to cover for the lilt his heart took at the sight of Erik clearly in his element as he motioned for Charles to precede him. “With that kind of attitude, I need to reconsider my earlier statements about your reputation.”

“No take backs,” Erik said and winked at Charles who simply shook his head and got out of the office to let Erik lock it.

***

Mrs Lehnsherr declined the invitation to go to the ball when Mr Lehnsherr returned home with Mr Xavier, having unkind words to address to the person who invited them because of who she pawned her daughter to.

Kurt heard most of that conversation only because he was silently making his way downstairs. Kitty had received permission from her mother to go to the Westchester manor that morning to do something she kept secret even from him. So Kurt was forced to leave his sanctuary to have supper as Kitty was the one who usually dined with him in his or her room when Mr Lehnsherr was at home. Otherwise they’d be joined by Mrs Lehnsherr as she did not like to eat alone.

Mr Lehnsherr terrified Kurt for a reason he could not explain to himself. Maybe it was his imposing stature or the deep baritone — or maybe the fact that they’ve only exchanged a dozen words since he teleported himself into their home and scared the soul out of him.

They both kept their distance from each other. Kurt more actively than Mr Lehnsherr.

But just as he thought he could make a beeline towards the kitchen, Mr Xavier turned a kind, open smile towards him from the dining room where he was just about to take a seat.

“Kurt,” he said, which alerted the other people in the room and made him freeze as he was slowly placing a foot on the last step. “It is a pleasure to see you out! Will you be joining us for supper?”

He had to work his jaw a bit until words came out. He was not accustomed to have this much attention on him.

“I was thinking of grabbing something and eat in my room.”

“Nonsense,” Mr Lehnsherr spoke, for the first time addressing him directly, “you should join us.” Everybody turned to look at him in surprise. “Have I said something wrong?” he asked, glancing from Mrs Lehnsherr to Mr Xavier.

“Not at all, my son,” she replied in what was possibly the warmest tone of voice Kurt had ever heard.

And his guardian had been the best thing since sliced bread. A pang of guilt and sorrow squeezed his chest, and he had to scratch at it to make it go away.

“Please, Kurt,” Mr Xavier said, open arms and inviting smile, “join us for supper. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, you can just leave and I promise you nobody will be cross.”

He couldn’t possibly say no to such an offer, so he accepted. But he forgot about how he looked, used as he was to Kitty’s presence. So in the lamp lights, he found himself lacking. Or rather, he felt as if he was— too much for the present company. Self-consciously, he started scratching at the fine fur on his left forearm, keeping his head down until the appetizer was served.

Nobody paid him more attention than to inquire about his day and his opinion on the topic they were debating, treating him as if he always ate with them. By the time the second course was served, he was more relaxed and even managed to put in his two cents without being prompted to, which resulted in chuckles and approval from everybody, including Mr Lehnsherr.

He had to turn his attention towards the mashed potatoes and the slices of venison to hide his coloured cheeks. They didn’t go red as they normally would on a white skin, but rather an aubergine colour which was visible even in the warm light of the lamps.

After supper, he thought he would be dismissed, but they extended an invitation to join them in the sitting room, where Mr Xavier and Mr Lehnsherr started playing chess and talking in more subdued tones as if they wanted to create a bubble around themselves. Mrs Lehnsherr took out the cards, Kurt’s favorite pastime.

“Now, my dear,” Mrs Lehnsherr began after they shuffled and dealt the cards. “Don’t you go soft on me, understood?”

Kurt blinked in surprise at her. “Um…” Somehow his instinct compelled him to turn towards Mr Lehnsherr to— look for approval.

Mrs Lehnsherr chuckled good-naturedly. “If you want to respect the hierarchy, then I rank higher than my son, considering that I was the one who raised him and my late husband is no longer. So don’t bother with him. They’re both in their own bubble now. Nothing could disturb them.”

“I heard that, Edie,” Charles said absent-mindedly as he was leaning forward, chin between his fingers.

“Is my mother distracting you, Charles?” Mr Lehnsherr goaded with a sharp smirk, his entire focus on Mr Xavier. 

Charles huffed and their gazes met and held, challenging each other. “You wish. I could win this game with my eyes closed.”

“Now, Charles, my dear,” Mrs Lehnsherr interrupted, rearranging the cards in her hand. “No cheating.”

“Cheating?” Mr Lehnsherr said, lifting an eyebrow at Mr Xavier. “I wonder how that could be possible.”

That was easy. Mr Xavier could read Mr Lehnsherr’s mind and find out his strategy even before he fully put it into act. Odd that Mr Lehnsherr did not know that.

Mr Xavier smiled crookedly as he moved a pawn on the board. Kurt wasn’t close enough to see which one, but Mr Xavier seemed satisfied with it as he leaned back in his armchair and smiled warmly at his opponent.

“I have my ways, Mr Lehnsherr,” he said cryptic, and Kurt watched how the household master looked down at the board with a frown. “But do you have yours to get out of that?”

“Eyes on the game, my dear boy.” Mrs Lehnsherr snapped Kurt’s attention back to their table. “Remember, if I feel you are going soft on me, you’ll have to accompany me tomorrow to the marketplace, understood?”

Kurt swallowed thickly, feeling himself getting sweaty just by imagining being in the open for such a long time. He nodded once, determination settling over his features.

Two hours later and Kurt won six times out of seven. The last one he lost because he had been distracted by the banter and goading going on between Mr Xavier and Mr Lehnsherr. There was something there, between them that kept nagging at Kurt, as if it was covered in a flimsy veil, blurred and inconsistent. It had been enough of a distraction to have Mrs Lehnsherr win the last game.

By eleven o’clock everybody retreated to their rooms, including Kurt. The problem was that he wasn’t tired at all. That had been the most fun he’d had since he came there. Since the murder. He actively tried not to think about that night because then the shadows in his room would take too much space and suffocate him. And he couldn’t take refuge into Kitty’s room.

He took out his own deck of cards, the only thing he had from his guardian that he cherished, and started a solo game. It made time pass more quickly, and tired him out as he tried to outwit himself. But after a handful of dealings, he decided to build a pyramid and failed every time he had to place the last two cards on top of the others.

When the grandfather clock on the ground floor struck midnight, Kurt changed from his suit to his underpants and a loose white shirt that fell to mid-thigh. He was getting into bed, leaving the light on his bedside table on when he heard movement beyond his door. Quickly, he snuffed out the source of light, so that he could crack open his door and see what was happening.

“Anything?” Mr Xavier asked in a hushed voice.

The whole hallway was enveloped into shadows, but at least his primary mutation came with night vision so it was almost the same as during daytime for him.

“Two dead bodies,” the rough, hushed voice of Mr Xavier’s bodyguard came.

“Somebody wants to cover this up.”

Unfortunately, they were both turned away from Kurt’s door which was situated further towards the middle of the hallway.

“Smelled gasoline on them. They were supposed to be burned, but we got there before they managed.”

Mr Xavier clicked his tongue. “We lost our only lead.”

“Not really.” Clothes shuffle as something was passed from hand to hand. Kurt would like to know what. “Found this near one of the bodies.”

“Oh, then this simplifies things.”

“Something you want to share with the class?”

“Not yet,” Mr Xavier said, not without a gram of thrill in his voice. “First, I need to pay this club a visit tomorrow.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No need. Mr Lehnsherr will surely want to accompany me tomorrow.”

Pause. “Since when does Lehnsherr rank higher in offence than me?”

Mr Xavier huffed. “It’s not about offence. We’re only visiting as possible customers.”

“Bub, you’ll be on your own there if things go pear shaped. He’s only human.”

“And I can take care of myself and him, if need be.”

“That how you’re gon’ out your specialty.”

Ah, that explains why Mr Lehnsherr seemed so confused during the chess game.

Mr Xavier sighed. “It won’t come to that. Goodnight, Logan.”

Kurt was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t realise that Mr Xavier’s bodyguard had his room further down the hallway and he had to pass by Kurt’s to get there. He also thought that because of the dark, the bodyguard wouldn’t notice the slightly open door.

No such luck.

He stopped right before his door and met Kurt’s gaze as if he could also see perfectly well in the dark.

“You need to work on your eavesdropping skills, Elf,” he said, and Kurt was so thrown off his loop that he shut the door in his face, not before catching the smirk.

His rabbiting heart wouldn’t calm down minutes after he heard the door further down open and close.


	3. Chapter 3

**.3.**

***

“You look dashing, my dear,” Mrs Lehnsherr said the next late afternoon as Mr Xavier descended the stairs.

Kurt still didn’t feel comfortable being in the sitting room, even though he kept both the door and the windows in his sight. There was too much space around him and not enough cover. Not even Mr Xavier’s bodyguard smoking his cigar by the window could appease the jittery feeling that took residence under his skin ever since the hour of the two gentlemen’s departure came closer.

He shouldn’t feel this unsettled. They were simply going to an engagement party.

But he was distracted by Mrs Lehnsherr’s comment and then the sight that Mr Xavier presented. He had donned a light grey tailcoat and pants, with a black Ascot tie and shoes. The only other garments that were black were the top hat and the heavy coat.

“Thank you, Edie,” he said, his charming smile making even Kurt’s heart beat a little faster. “I suppose I cannot convince you to join us.”

“Ah,” she said, lifting her chin the way his protector used to do when news of such and such made her exteriorize her disagreement. “Nothing could dissuade me, Charles. Not even that delightful smile of yours.”

“Shame,” Mr Xavier commented without heat. “I am sure the party would have welcomed your presence.”

“The party, yes. Mrs Dubonne? Not so much. She and I have been on the wrong side of friends for quite some time now. The invitation has the air of just being courteous. Besides, I believe that my son could fill in my absence without a hitch. I don’t suppose Mrs Dubonne would take kindly to our— particular views of society.”

“I am sure Mr Lehnsherr would not abstain to make them known either way.”

She patted Mr Xavier’s lapel with a secretive smile, a gesture Ms Margali, Kurt’s protector, used to do when he dressed up and she was pleased by his choices.

“That is why he has you, my dear.”

He looked at her with something in his eyes that was equal parts amusement and warning.

“Certainly not the choice I would prefer to keep my son from agitating our esteemed hosts.”

“Nonsense! You are the perfect choice.”

They both chuckled, a smile cresting Kurt’s lips at the easy nature of the two before his eyes stole upwards where Mr Lehnsherr paused at the head of the stairs. He looked— taken out of a painting. So regal and imposing. Nobody had to utter a word for his mother and friend to turn towards him and take in the household master descending the stairs like only a true aristocrat would.

Somebody took in a sharp inhale and Kurt was sure it was not him or Mrs Lehnsherr— or even Mr Logan who still had to turn away from the window he was guarding.

Mr Lehnsherr had donned a black shirt with frilly sleeves that fanned over his wrists and dress pants, while on top of them he wore a deep burgundy, velvet tailcoat-inspired jacket, the latest in Victorian fashion. The tails extended not only at the back, but in front, too, touching his knees. Add to that the black stone ring he wore on his left ring finger and the silver headed cane, and he looked ready to take control of the room.

“Erik, my dear,” Mrs Lehnsherr burst the noise-sucking bubble the whole room plunged into, approaching her son and fussing over him like only a mother could. “You look positively…”

Not even she had the words to describe how her son looked. Ms Margali would say ‘sinful’ or even ‘ready to leave untouched daughters pregnant’, but his protector had always had a penchant for the less unsavoury side of society.

“Enthralling,” Mr Xavier filled in and Mr Lehnsherr turned his attention on him at once. “I mean,” he cleared his throat, “intriguing. I am sure you will make the headlines tomorrow.”

“Not to mention the gossip.” Mrs Lehnsherr chuckled and her son grinned closed-mouthed at Mr Xavier.

His toothful grins scared Kurt. They always made him look like he was plotting something sinister or knew your dirtiest secret.

“I do not think that I will be the only one making the headlines tomorrow, Charles,” he said, giving Mr Xavier a slow once over that made the other lean from one foot to the other, as if unable to withstand the examination.

“I cannot wait to hear about the entire party from Mrs Cook.”

“Mother, you know that everything you hear from our esteemed neighbour cannot be kept accountable for what really happens at the party.” He only looked down at his mother for a second or two, before he turned his amused grin on Mr Xavier.

“Shush, now,” she said, arranging and rearranging the frilly bits near Mr Lehnsherr’s neck. “Let a lady have her fun. Gossip is the purest form of entertainment around these sooth-filled, gloomy parts of London.”

“And here I thought that theatre plays were the purest form of entertainment,” he said, his grin widening.

Kurt had no idea what Mr Xavier’s expression looked like as he had his back to Kurt, but he imagined that it matched Mr Lehnsherr’s amusement, millimetre by millimetre. He couldn’t be sure, though, not when he was becoming aware of the jittery feeling under his skin once again.

“For those snobs, yes,” Mrs Lehnsherr said with an air of superiority. “But for us, commoners, gossip is the height of entertainment.”

“I am positive,” Mr Xavier added, “that high society delights in such entertainment more so than they do in a play.”

They exchanged more opinions on the matter until the clock struck eight and they both left the house with a kiss on each of Mrs Lehnsherr’s cheek and a nod towards Kurt and Mr Logan.

Mrs Lehnsherr returned in the sitting room where Mr Logan still gazed outside the window from a vantage point behind the curtains, and Kurt had sat down at the table and had pulled out his deck of cards. 

“Right. However shall we entertain ourselves for the rest of the evening?”

She looked at Kurt and then at the cards he displayed on the table and smiled warmly.

***

It was hard for Erik to keep his attention on his current conversational partner when Charles was across the room entertaining a handful of guests who had flocked around him almost at once. He had not taken kindly to having his old friend be whisked away from his side, by Emma Frost out of all people, as soon as they had been relieved of their hats, canes, and winter coats.

He understood the need to catch up with the elusive Westchester master or, rather, have Charles catch up with most of the trivial gossip that circulated in every circle, but he still found it rude that nobody extended an invitation towards Erik.

He could gossip just as badly as everyone else. He just abstained from doing so often.

“I’m telling you, Mr Lehnsherr,” Mr Thornton continued his one-side conversation that he had started without being prompted to by anybody, trying hard and failing to not sway on his feet, “if you want peace and quiet in your household, you need to keep her happy. Promise her everything she wants and you’ll never have to worry about her getting strange ideas like it happened with poor Mr Glassfield. He had to take his wife to the countryside.”

“I’m sure Mr Glassfield had his reasons,” Erik said distractedly as Charles put on display his public smile for his audience. The smile was a nasty thing, in Erik’s opinion. He much preferred the private ones; small upturns of lips, glint in his eyes— the best ones.

“Reasons? I’m telling you, the only reason that good woman went for the hills was because he kept ignoring her.”

At last, Erik became aware that they were gathering quite a crowd, and even though they kept a respectable distance from them, they still gravitated within earshot.

“Now, my good sir,” he began, leaning in so that he could lower his voice some. “I do not think that this subject should be discussed in polite company.”

“If not now, then when!” burst Mr Thornton, almost sloshing the wine in his tall glass, and attracting the attention of the nearby people.

“Mr Thornton,” his wife graciously introduced herself into the conversation by swiftly taking his glass and placing it on a tray that was just passing by, weaving her gloved arm around his forearm. “I believe our driver has arrived to pick us up.”

“What are you saying? Leave? Now when the party is afoot?”

“Good evening, Mrs Thornton,” Charles said from Erik’s right side, the smile a touch warmer as he bent down and kissed the hand she proffered, and then nodded to her husband. “Mr Thornton. Such a pleasure to have you both grace this party. And might I just add that age has nothing on you, my dear Mrs Thornton.”

She laughed with all the control a noble lady had been taught since before she could properly walk or speak.

“Oh, Charles, we’ve missed you. Are you sure you don’t intend to come back? These parties lack engagement when you’re not here to tell us the latest theories from the scientific world.”

Charles smiled charmingly at her, and Erik took a sip from his glass of champagne, finally feeling at ease. “I’m sure Mr Lehnsherr here keeps you entertained enough.” And he almost choked on the sip upon hearing that.

She tittered as she placed her other hand on top of Mr Thornton’s upper arm to steady him. “If only we’d see more of Mr Lehnsherr, that is.”

Charles glanced at Erik and he caught the apology in his eyes before his attention turned to Mrs Thornton. 

“I apologise for my continued absence from these social gatherings, but work keeps me away, unfortunately.”

“Fear not, Mr Lehnsherr,” she said with amusement, “we shall excuse your absence for as long as you contribute to the flourishing of the British Empire’s economy.”

He bowed slightly. “I shall try my best.”

“Very well.” She patted her husband’s forearm. “Shall we head home, my dear?”

“More champagne for Mrs Cavendish. I shall take it to her.”

“Of course, my dear.” She inclined her head at Charles and Erik. “It has been a pleasure seeing you both even for such a short time. Hopefully, we shall meet under more,” she glanced at her drunk husband, “restrained circumstances. Good evening, gentlemen.”

They both bowed their heads and saluted her in kind as she guided her husband out of the room. Then Charles spun around and took a glass of champagne from the tray that was passing him by.

“So?” Erik asked, both their attention on the crowd, as Erik brought his glass to his lips.

“I did not miss the gossip,” Charles replied, taking a sip himself. “But I haven’t found out who the mysterious owner of the Hellfire Club is.”

“Dark haired, a nobility air about him, small, round eyes—”

“Half the gentlemen at this party.” 

“Maybe we should start asking people about him and the club.”

“That is hardly inconspicuous.”

“Why do we need to be inconspicuous again?” Erik asked because his memory had a knack at failing him when it wasn’t about being direct.

“Because there are lives at stake here. We might not find him, if he realises that we are looking for him. The club must be something he wants to keep separated from himself, if nobody knew his name.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“Didn’t you?”

“I like a more direct approach.”

“Of course you do.”

Erik grinned behind the glass before taking another sip. From the corner of his eye he saw that Charles, too, had to hide the little smile behind his glass. The harmony between them and the easy banter made Erik wish the night would just go on forever.

But the sharp clink of a piece of metal hitting glass made the entire room cease their conversation and direct their attention towards the source. And even if Erik could not see below the neckline as they were stationed along the wall to the side to have a complete view of the room, he was sure that Duchess Dubonne used a silver teaspoon. 

The sound was unmistakable.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, her voice high-pitched as if she wanted to reach those ceiling-high soprano notes, “thank you for being part of such a glorious moment in the lives of my daughter and her fiancé. For that matter, I would like to introduce him to you all. Please welcome our esteemed scientist Mr Marko’s son, Cain Marko.”

A round of applause filled the room as a rather large man stepped forward, taking Duchess Dubonne’s daughter’s hand and dwarfing her by merely standing at her side. It was clear even from that far back that she was not happy with her chosen one.

Then two things happened at once: Charles pursed his lips and frowned, as if he disapproved of something in the crowd, and a white-suited man with dark, mid-neck hair, and darker eyes appeared by his friend’s side, a social smile on his lips.

“Fancy party, isn’t it?” he began, which startled Charles as if he had not been aware of the other’s presence.

Erik stared back at those fathomless eyes, the glint of the lamps not catching in their depths as he kept his lids lowered.

“It is,” Erik said, sparing his friend the social need to answer another gentleman. 

“I have heard that Mrs Dubonne spared no penny for it.” Then he leaned forward, putting his head right in front of Charles, and Erik narrowed his eyes a tad at that display of familiarity. “But word has it that the Dubonne family has fallen from the Queen’s graces, and this party is their desperate attempt at showing the noble strata that they are not done.”

He leaned back and perused the crowd, most of which was taking turns congratulating the two engaged people. Or rather, Mr Marko, because her voice couldn’t even be heard this far out and she was the soprano of the family.

“Though I doubt that pawning their only daughter to such a personality will win them any favours with the Queen. You would think that they’d choose somebody of a less— questionable lineage.”

At this Erik lifted an eyebrow, moving his glass of champagne to the side a bit. If the rumours he had heard were right (and those kinds of rumours that Mrs Cook heard were almost always right), then Erik had been Mrs Dubonne’s first and preferred choice. He felt a pang of guilt at having Emma write a letter where he refused in the most gentlemanly fashion a union between their families. 

“And why are you so sure that they have been estranged from the Queen?” Charles asked without preamble, his clear blue eyes pinning the mysterious gentleman like only Charles was capable of.

The man did not even flinch at Charles’ directness, and Erik used this opportunity to contact Emma.

_ Emma, who is this gentleman?  _ Erik sent the mental image of the man that was talking to Charles.

He couldn’t see her light blonde curls around, but he knew that she was still in the ballroom. 

_ That is Sir Sebastian Shaw, one of the Queen’s highly praised dukes.  _

_ Oh? And how come I have never heard nor saw any of him. _

_ He mostly keeps to his manor in Essex. The gossip floating around the ballroom is that he is here on behalf of the Queen. Rumour has it that he’s part of Her Majesty’s secret guard. _

_ Hm. _

_ He’s also supposedly interested in the occult. _

_ What does that mean? _

He could almost see her rolling her eyes, even though that was such an unbecoming gesture, especially for a lady of high society.

_ Occult is another term our ‘esteemed’ nobles use for mutants like me. _

He slanted a conspicuous glance at Mr Shaw with renewed interested.

_ That is the most interesting news I have heard all evening. _

_ You mean the engagement did not make your heart palpitate with guilt? You could have made a cute couple. She looks like the kind of young lady that would have changed your dirty clothes if you ever drank yourself into a stupor. _

Erik almost sighed outwardly.  _ I will never—  _

_ — succumb to such backhanded strategies at steering your decisions, yes, I know that. But the possibility is still there. _

_ No such thing. Her fate is sealed. _

A long pause.  _ That, it is. _

He closed the mind link between them and turned his attention back to the conversation Charles was having with Mr Shaw on the probabilities of there being any way of shortening the time between a message and its reply.

It irked Erik that Mr Shaw seemed to engage Charles at such a deep level. Then Charles had to take a long sip of his champagne to wet his dry mouth.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, looking at his empty glass, “but I must find some of those  _ aperitifs _ that were walking around. Mr. Lehnsherr?”

He looked at Erik for the first time since they parted ways with the Thornton spouses and there was that glint in his eyes that spoke of merriment and energy. Erik shook his head in answer, then took a sip of his champagne as Charles turned the question on Mr Shaw who also declined. He was delighting in the fact that Charles asked Erik  _ first  _ and thus had only caught the tailends of a question Mr Shaw had been asking him.

“I apologise,” his mother’s iron upbringing compelled him to say, “I did not catch that.”

The man smiled the kind of smile that edged on being dangerous— even predatory. Erik’s stomach sank at once with a nasty feeling, even though it was culled by something else, foreign, that seemed to contrast it. He had no idea where it came from.

“I was asking about your business, Mr Lehnsherr.”

The nasty feeling took on a jittery edge. The way this gentleman’s tongue curled around his name made Erik feel slimy. 

“What about my business, Mr Shaw?”

He was not expecting surprise to suffuse Mr Shaw’s eyes. It seemed that Erik was not the only one who knew more than the other thought he knew.

“I was wondering how it was going, considering the many sea storms that have been happening as of late. These must be hard times for you company.”

Something in the way he pronounced those words slithered down Erik’s spine in a cold,  _ wrong  _ way. Not to mention the liberty this gentleman took to bridge the distance between them as if they were on a first name basis.

Iron stole into his voice, and he was at once aware of how spacious the ballroom was and at the same time how limited— and sturdy. “My business is doing fine, despite the minor hiccoughs.”

“Minor?”

He found himself increasingly hating the smile this man kept on his lips, as if he found Erik to be an amusing insect. That condescension went the wrong way with Erik.

“Was there a point to your question, Mr Shaw?” he asked. He could almost taste the frost on his tongue. 

“Merely curiosity. Your reputation, especially the  _ gift  _ you seem to be having with iron, has reached the highest circles.”

“I was not aware that the high nobility lost their time with such unimportant matters.”

“Oh, Mr Lehnsherr, you would be surprised,” he drawled, the most sickening honeyed tone of voice Erik had ever heard.

***

It was the fourth time in a row that he beat Mrs Lehnsherr at the card game, and she was starting to look at Kurt with suspicion.

“I am not cheating, Mrs Lehnsherr,” he said, lifting his arms up.

“You better not, my boy,” she warned.

At the window, Mr Logan snorted, and when Kurt looked at him he was leaning on the wall, his muscled arms crossed over his chest stretching the white shirt. He was watching their game with a smirk. There was something about the way he stood, the way he met Kurt’s gaze, that made a shiver run down his spine.

“He’s telling the truth,” Mr Logan said. “With a face like that you’d know he’s gon’ cheat even before he does.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kurt asked, indignation getting the better of him, which seemed to only accentuate the amusement on Mr Logan’s rugged face. “Do you have trouble with my face, Mr Logan?”

“If you are so sure of that,” Mrs Lehnsherr said, a challenge in her eyes and tone of voice, “then why don’t you deal a hand with him?”

“Not at all, Elf,” he said, stalking his way towards the chair Mrs Lehnsherr vacated, turning it so that the cushioned backseat was towards the table before sitting down. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Kurt shuffled the cards faster than he did with Mrs Lehnsherr as if he needed to demonstrate to Mr Xavier’s bodyguard that he was a master at that. He offered that irking man the deck and Mr Logan didn’t waste a second to cut the cards, smirking at Kurt as if he knew what Kurt’s next move would be.

He dealt the cards and then the game began, anticipation building in the pit of Kurt’s stomach with each hand. He was so concentrated on his own hand, the cards on the table and Mr Logan’s smirking face that he had no idea how the man beat him at his own game.

“How—”

Mrs Lehnsherr’s warm chuckles made him turn a confused face towards her. She was sitting with a book on her plush armchair, the weathered face chiselled by mirth.

“What’s wrong, Elf? Never lost at this game?”

“I mean, of course I did,” he said, meeting Mr Logan’s crinkled eyes with a frown. “You don’t get to be good at it if you don’t lose, but—”

He looked at the cards on the table and tried to recount what happened, but it was all a blur of cards and Mr Logan’s smirking face. Had he been so distracted by this gentleman that he didn’t see the scales tipping?

“Logan,” Mrs Lehnsherr’s admonishing voice interrupted Kurt’s frantic thinking, “take pity on the boy.”

“Why?” he said, his smirk turning into a close-mouthed grin. “He never had anybody cheat on him?”

“You cheated?” Kurt’s eyes widened, unable to comprehend how somebody could cheat on him. But he wasn’t going to let this pass. “I demand a re—”

His words died in his throat as the jittery feeling returned, his instinct telling him that something was wrong. He frowned at the door behind Mr Logan who opened his mouth to say something in response to Kurt’s sudden change in mood, but he stood up abruptly, his attention straying towards the window, sniffing the air and then turning his head in the opposite direction as if he was hearing something.

“Edie—” Was all Mr Logan said before the crash made Kurt stand up and topple his chair back. 

***

_ Ms Frost, who is this gentleman? _

_ Really, you too, Charles? _

_ Beg your pardon? _

_ Erik asked me the same not ten minutes ago. I know that you don’t read people’s minds unless invited to or if it is imperative to do so, but surely your curiosity would have pushed you to look for such answers. _

_ His mental defences are stronger than Erik’s. I wasn’t able to glean even surface thoughts. I shan’t force myself into his mind and alert him of my ability. From the conversation we had he seemed to be interested in mutant abilities more than nobility usually is.  _

_ I don’t know about you, but I find it immensely rude that he did not present himself from the moment he engaged with you. _

_ Ms Frost. _

She relayed the information she gave Erik and something ticked Charles wrong.

_ Usually when nobility is involved in the occult it is never to the advantage of the ‘occult’. _

_ My thoughts exactly. Unless that nobility is Sir Hank McCoy. _

Charles had to hide the warm smile behind another sip of champagne as he was watching Erik and Mr Shaw talk from behind Erik. If he continued to do this, he feared he might get drunk before finding anything useful. Or worse: get too loose to keep his barriers up. 

_ Which reminds me that he will be at my next gathering, two months from now. You are, of course, invited, as well as Janos. _

_ Not Erik?  _ She sent with amusement.

Charles sent amusement back.  _ We shall see. _

Ms Frost said something, but Charles tuned her out when he felt Erik’s mood change. He stopped questioning why he seemed to pick up on Erik’s state of mind as easy as breathing even with the both of them having strong mental defence.

He made his way towards them, swiftly, regaling Mr Shaw with his social smile.

“Even with food in abundance, there will always be a queue,” he said, reintroducing himself into the conversation. He noticed Mr Shaw leaning back as if he did not expect Charles to come right between the two. “Have I missed anything important?”

“Nothing as such,” Mr Shaw said, his voice taking on that guarded, neutral tone, but his attention resting solely on Erik. Rudely so, if Charles had any say in the matter. “I was just asking Mr Lehnsherr here about his business.”

“Gracious of you to inquire after such paltry matters,” Erik commented.

Unmistakably, Erik’s mood was sour. Terribly so. Charles itched to open a direct link to his mind and ask him about the conversation he had with this gentleman that put him off so much.

“I must admit,” Charles said, assessing Mr Shaw’s face and trying to discern why it ticked him the wrong way, “I would not have expected the fame of Mr Lehnsherr’s business to reach such high circles.”

A shadow of surprise passed over Mr Shaw’s features. 

“Oh, do not fret, Mr Shaw,” Charles added, his gaze searching. “You are the second most gossiped man at this party. Ms Dubonne’s fiancée takes the first place.” He turned his gaze towards Erik whose attention he found had already been on Charles. “You and I have been demoted to third place, my friend.”

“Such a shame,” Erik said, not meaning a syllable of what he was uttering, entertained by the thought. “However shall we grace these parties now if gossip does not precede us?”

Charles smiled more fully now, appreciating Erik’s usual brand of sarcasm.

“Everything has a beginning and an end, Mr Lehnsherr. Gossip, you will find, always comes full circle. What has died down, shall be revived within a couple of weeks or so.”

“Truer words have never been spoken, Mr Xavier,” Mr Shaw said, dripping sweet and going so far as to take a step forward to be included in the little bubble Charles and Erik created around themselves.

Charles had to force himself to return his attention on Mr Shaw. It was rude to ignore such an esteemed gentleman at a party such as that. Erik, for that matter, seemed to not care one iota about decorum and social etiquette as Charles still felt his warm gaze on his face.

“Gossip is the currency of every society, would you not agree, Mr Shaw?” Charles said graciously, pulling his attention back on Charles when he saw how Mr Shaw narrowed his eyes a tad at Erik. 

Mr Shaw was about to answer, when Ms Frost introduced herself into their rather tight circle. Not metaphorically tight. Just space-wise tight. If anyone would take even a half step forward, they’d be able to smell each other’s breaths.

“Oh my,” Ms Frost said, keeping her flute of champagne at shoulder level, smiling her social smile at them, “such an esteemed gathering of gentlemen. Might I enquire as to the subject of the conversation? Is Mr Lehnsherr boasting about his business?”

Charles chuckled warmly. “On the contrary, Ms Frost. Mr Lehnsherr did not need to engage in such matters. His fame has reached the highest of circles.”

“Cheers to that, gentlemen,” Ms Frost pushed her flute in the middle of the group.

Charles touched it to hers, followed half-heartedly by Erik. Mr Shaw hesitated for a second or two, before he copied the gesture, too. It didn’t take Charles a lot to read the furtive glance Ms Frost threw Mr Shaw as they all took a sip of their beverage. She was trying to read his mind.

And Charles was trying to find out what she could get from the man who kept such a tight lid over his own mind. It wasn’t unusual to meet normal people with such strong mental defenses as not every mutant in London needed help. A great many of them could easily camouflage themselves among the socialites and nobility.

To Charles’ knowledge, two of Queen Victoria’s children had the mutant gene. Whether or not they manifested, that he could not be sure of. Might also be that the queen kept the information under tight lock.

He was in deep musings when Ms Frost slammed shut her mental defences, the backlash making Charles jolt his head back as if to avoid a blow to his face.

Erik’s hand came between his shoulder blades, and he smiled apologetically when he met Erik’s concerned gaze, shaking his head a little. He returned his attention on Ms Frost who looked decidedly paler than normal.

***

Logan snarled, his adamantium claws thrusting through an armoured chest plate like a polished knife through tender meat. He grinned at the masked asshole who lay unmoving on the stairs. Four others were barging in through the back door and three through the window he had been guarding.

Soon he was surrounded, every black idiot pointing a weapon of big calibre at him.

“This how you wanna play?” he said, eyes going from goggles to goggles. “Would’ve brought the party suit, if I knew.”

He jumped up just as they fired in unison, creating a hole in the wooden floor towards the basement. Glassware shattered in a million shards as the fuckers tried to hit him, splinters of furniture and cement dust tickling Logan’s nose with their sharp smell. But that was not the only thing he could smell as he looked at the idiots trying frantically to recharge their weapons from where he was crouching on the edge of the half standing table.

So those automatic rifle-like weapons could only fire about twenty bullets per minute. Good to know.

He jumped again, a snarl clawing its way up.

***

“I apologise,” Ms Frost said and Charles’ gaze narrowed slightly at the undercurrent tremor in her voice. Something must have shaken her up rather strongly if she had a hard time schooling her features. “Where ever are my manners? I must go and congratulate the newly engaged. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” She inclined her head in salute. “Mr Lehnsherr,” she offered her elbow to Erik, “if you will accompany me. I am sure you will do well to return within Mrs Dubonne’s graces.”

Erik opened his mouth, but only air got out. He accepted her invitation, throwing a confused, backward glance at Charles.

He wanted to tell Erik that he was as confused by her radical change in demeanour as he was. Not to mention that he still nursed the mental equivalent of a slap from her earlier action.

_ Be careful, Charles. He is dangerous. More so than he lets on,  _ she sent Charles at the same time as he realised how strategic her move had been if her warning came to pass, so he steeled himself for the worst.

“I see Ms Frost is not quite what she seems to be,” Mr Shaw said, startling Charles.

Something dark and slithering came out with those words, and Charles assessed this man again, taking in his features, the mid-neck dark hair, small, almond-shaped eyes, the aristocratic air about him— 

He met Charles’ gaze and Charles felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

“I was not aware that there was a telepath amidst us.”

And because Charles was not used to this, the whole strain of the social life making him sloppy and prone to harsh decisions, he brought his fingers to his temple to steady the pulsing headache as he pulled down his shields and connected with every mind in the room at once.

Everybody stopped moving and talking and the silence that followed amplified his headache, making him feel how sore that muscle in his body was and how little he used his mental powers even back at the manor.

_ Charles. _

He was breathing hard, but Ms Frost’s voice managed to reach him and he had to double his efforts to release her mind from his grip.

_ Take Erik out of here. _

“I can’t if you don’t let him go,” she said from across the ballroom.

Charles closed his eyes tight, trying to brush away the smirk Shaw kept on even frozen in time and space as he was. He also had to calm his heart and ignore his headache as he concentrated on Erik’s mind, such a familiar beacon among the non-mutant, dull lights in the room. It took him a couple of tries until he weakened his grip on his mind and let him go.

“What— what’s happening?” he heard Erik’s voice as clear as if he was at his side.

“No time to explain,” Ms Frost’s hurried, impatient tone followed. “We need to get out now.”

“Where’s Charles?” 

He could see Erik pulling his arm from Ms Frost’s grip through the eyes of the nearby people, Erik’s head turning whichever way in search of Charles. 

“Charles!”

There was no other possible explanation to the feeling that assaulted Charles when Erik’s eyes finally found him. It was the equivalent of every platonic touch they have shared across the years, warm and comforting.

“Charles! What is happening?” And now he was making his way towards Charles.

_ Ms Frost, please. I can’t— can’t keep them all frozen for long. _

“Mr Lehnsherr, we need to get—”

“I’m not going anywhere without— Charles! Charles, are you okay?”

He was brazenly making his way towards Charles, pushing people out of his way, which mentally meant that the grip he had on them kept shaking and threatening to slip through his fingers like sand.

He gasped, the headache stronger than ever, and he looked up at Mr Shaw, presently the cause of Charles struggled, because the man felt like a bull in his grip. He thrashed and pushed against Charles’ hold with vengeance.

Then warmth enveloped his shoulder and Charles almost sagged in that grip if he wasn’t trying so hard to keep people unmoving and unaware of what was happening.

“Charles,” his voice caressed his ear, rough and familiar and  _ so achingly intimate,  _ but he couldn’t let himself be distracted now. “What—”

At the same time as Erik, Charles became aware of Mr Shaw turning his gaze upon them, the smirk stretching and the light intensifying in his torso. 

“He’s a mutant!” Ms Frost said in horror.

And just as he was frying through Charles’ mental hold, pulling out a scream from him, Erik pushed him down, covering him with his body before the light erupted from Shaw’s chest and destroyed a big portion of the wall facing the street. Everybody fell down the moment Charles snapped shut his mental connection to them like puppets cut from their strings, unconscious and unmoving. It had been the only idea he had: let them not be conscious for what would come.

“My, my, two telepaths in the same room,” Shaw said, walking towards them as Charles was coughing and breathing erratically and Erik was trying to get his bearings as they were covered in debris. “I feel blessed. Phoenix will love to play with you.”

***

The quiet of the sitting room was only interrupted by Logan’s ragged breathing. His claws burst forth the moment a strange noise appeared in the room.

“Mr— whoa, what happened—” Kurt said, or tried to say as he took in the carnage in the sitting room and then the dishevelled state that Logan was in.

Logan’s claws retracted and he turned towards Elf. He looked scared and poised to flee, but he held his ground. 

“Is she safe?” 

Kurt nodded. “Yes, she is.”

Logan knew everything he needed to know about what happened to this mutant. He threw Kurt a nod, feeling oddly proud about Elf’s accomplishment. Kurt threw back a grin, saluting him with two out of the three fingers he had as the chilly night air fluttered about the yolk yellow curtains, behind which only the wooden frame of the windows was left standing.

He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on finding a fissure in his constant mental shields.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to reach Chuck.”

“Who is Chuck?”

Logan didn’t answer as he finally found that fissure. He didn’t get to send anything as a shrill sound made him open his eyes just in time to see.

***

“You are Hellfire Club’s owner,” Charles managed between coughs, and even though Erik took the brunt of the debris, his whole suit covered in dust and rubble, Charles still steadied him.

He didn’t like the fact that Charles positioned himself in such a way as to half-cover him, as if Erik would not be able to hold his own against such a mutant. He had encountered worse across the years and always got out of it with minor wounds. Charles knew that.

Shaw inclined his head with a nonchalant expression on his face. “A hobby.”

“Kidnapping and brainwashing mutants is a hobby now?”

Shaw guffawed. “You, Mr Xavier, don’t know the half of it.”

Erik saw in the corner of his eyes how Emma was trying to circle Shaw and surprise-attack him.

“Then please do enlighten me,” Charles goaded, his hand gripping Erik’s forearm like a vice, simultaneously becoming aware of every single piece of metal in the room like he’s never felt before.

It scared and attracted him at the same time, as if it was calling for him to connect with all that metal and manipulate it however he wanted.

“Why? So that your friend here can stab me in the back?” His arm shot to his side, grabbing Emma by the throat and lifting her up. 

She struggled, half-formed whimpers and gasps trying to get out from a throat that was obstructed.

“Let her go, Shaw!” Charles demanded, his voice becoming rough and impatient as they both stood up.

“And who are you to demand that, hm, Mr Xavier? Don’t think I don’t know about your personal trove of mutants.”

Erik tried to concentrate on the conversation and their enemy because that enemy was threatening the life of his employee and his closest friend, but this feeling, a separate sense from his five was tickling at his mind, was calling out for him to reach. He didn’t know how, though, so it only increased his frustration because it was like what he wanted was just at arm’s length, yet he felt frozen, unable to reach.

“I provide shelter for them, unlike whatever you do to them! Let her go! You’re hurting her!”

The grin, jagged and deranged, pulled Erik out of the fuzzy bubble he had been trapped in. Charles was already halfway between him and Shaw, approaching him slowly, but steadily.

A tense silence fell over them before Shaw threw Emma down as if she was just as insignificant as the dirt on his shoes. Charles rushed to her side, helping her sit up.

“That’s why you’ll never win this fight, Mr Xavier,” Shaw said from above them, partially turning his back to Erik. “You care too much.”

And light burst from his torso at the same time as Erik shouted something, trying to reach Charles, one hand extended, but he couldn’t hear his own voice from the rush of blood to his head as he called upon every single metal in the room. In a matter of seconds, cutlery, trays, jewelry, and chalices attacked Shaw, throwing him a few meters away from them. He skidded to a halt towards the entrance of the ballroom, right under the wide, square-ish windows, devoid of people.

Erik was breathing hard, locks of hair falling into his eyes as he felt the pulsing around him, wave after wave of metal answering his call, now that he threw that door wide open. He quickly stepped towards the man, the five trays glued to his chest melting away rapidly because the man’s light was pushing through them with vengeance. He had no idea how Mr Shaw’s power worked, but he seemed to be struggling to summon it.

He knew what was about to happen, so he thrust his hand up above his head, hand a claw, then pulled down with every bit of strength he had.

The beam in the ceiling came down on Shaw, destroying the front of the house in its way and crushing Shaw’s torso.

Erik’s hands were shaking, the tremor of having that much power coursing through his veins leaving him quivering. His heart was beating a mile a minute and his lungs burned with the need for more air.

“Erik, you—”

Charles came before him, shock painted all over his face. Those blue eyes bluer still and his complexion paler than he had ever seen it before. Erik had a hard time concentrating on anything else, but his friend, a much needed distraction from the buzz under his skin.

“Charles,” he croaked, throat dry, “what just happened?”

Charles’ lips separated, and his friend seemed to have the answer poised on them, but he refrained from saying anything in regards.

“Let’s get you back home, shall we?”

Just then Mr Powers pushed through the throng of people that had been quietly making their way out which Erik found weird considering the destroyed state of the ballroom. He was breathing hard as if he had been running all the way there.

“Mr Lehnsherr!” he said, stopping behind the metal beam, surprise washing his desperate look clean, before his eyes found Shaw’s dead body.

“Mr Powers,” Erik pulled him back from the shock. “Is something the matter?”

“Your home, sir,” he said breathlessly.

Ice clogged his lungs and veins as the worst feeling possible surged forward.

“It was attacked.”


	4. Chapter 4

**.4.**

***

“They took the Elf,” Logan told Charles as Erik hugged his mother tight in the hallway.

“Oh, no,” Charles breathed out, numbly sitting down on the steps of the front entrance where Logan was. 

“Charles,” Erik said from behind him, “we need to talk.”

Charles looked up at him and even without reading his mind, he knew exactly what he wanted to talk about.

“Yes, we do,” he said, tired, giving up on keeping this or any other secret from his friend. “But not now. Now we need to find Kurt before he disappears without a trace.”

Erik opened his mouth to protest, but a carriage stopped in front of them and Janos got out, before he helped Ms Frost do the same. She had a white bandage around her throat, but other than that she looked like a soldier marching into war.

“Emma told me everything,” Janos said without preamble, his face neutral because Janos did not show much emotion even during trying times.

“Oh my god!” Ms Frost couldn’t help herself as she took in the partially destroyed state of the Lehnsherr house. “What happened here?” She was by Mrs Lehnsherr’s side, and they quickly fell into a hushed conversation.

“Good,” Logan told Janos as he got up and dusted his pants, Charles following suit. “I can track them.” He tapped his nose, Janos looking as if he didn’t know what Logan was talking about. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, Logan!” Charles jumped after him, holding his elbow as if such a grip could deter such a man from leaving. “You cannot go without at least a plan and backup.”

“Don’t need either, bub,” he said gruffly, his gaze trained on the opposite direction Emma and Janos’ carriage came from. “I’m gon’ find ‘im, and when I do, imma tear the place apart. This cat an’ mouse game ends today.”

“We all want to save Kurt,” Erik said, stepping up at Charles’ side, “and every other mutant who had been kidnapped. But if the place they are kept in is Shaw’s manor, then we need a plan of attack.”

Charles nodded. “And he must have it heavily guarded.”

“Marionettes.” Logan scoffed. “I can tear through them like paper.”

“Not if the numbers are on their side,” Edie said, her features set in stone. “That castle is guarded by over one hundred soldiers. Only a dozen of them are outside.”

“How do you know that, mother?”

“If it’s another rumour or gossip goin’ ‘round then you can keep it,” Logan said, turning his back at her.

“No gossip this time,” she said, pulling a folded piece of paper from under her left breast lapel.

Charles was fast to take it and unfold it, Erik coming at his side to see.

“We better take this one inside,” Charles declared, tone brooking no argument.

***

They spent the next ten minutes coming up with the best plan of attack— or sneaking in as Charles kept reminding Logan. The only reason why Logan kept calling it like that was because even though the castle was deep into the forest, it had a large perimeter around it that was just manicured grass and hedges circling small beds of flowers. There was no way they would be able to sneak in and not be detected by anyone. If Lehnsherr’s mother’s intel was correct, then the guarding rotation left maybe a minute, two tops, of a window to get anywhere with cover. And that was not enough for them to approach the castle from any side.

“We are not fighting our way in!” Charles said firmly, sending a glare Logan’s way.

Logan, the bastard he usually was, grinned viciously. “You only say that because your abilities work best on the defensive.”

Charles narrowed his eyes at him, and Logan’s grin gradually lessened as he felt Charles pushing at his mental defences in such a way that Logan began to doubt their strength. He threw a warning look back, and Charles simply huffed once and retreated.

“You were not at the ball,” Lehnsherr intervened, again stepping close to Charles. “You do not know what he is capable of,” he finished, which prompted a look full of disbelief from the annoying telepath in the room.

He kept doing that — stepping close to him — whenever Charles was around. It had become something Logan managed to ignore— for the most part. But at the moment he was still riding the adrenaline from the fight and the confusing turmoil that was a mix of guilt and anger at himself for not being able to prevent a mutant left in his care from being whisked right from under his nose. Lehnsherr’s words, as true as they might have been, rubbed Logan the wrong way.

“And you’re not the one who’s been sharing the same roof with him for the past decade.”

Lehnsherr’s eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, enough for Logan to see the stirrings of anger taking form in the depths of his expression. He felt the change in the atmosphere, not to mention the vibrations in the walls and further down the hall.

“Gentlemen,” Edie interrupted with all the poise an educated lady possessed, “let us focus on the task at hand.”

“This is not the place, nor the time to antagonise Mr Lehnsherr, Logan,” Charles added, his displeasure visible on his face. 

Logan had had part of that expression too many times for it to have any effect on him, but Lehnsherr’s mother was right. The more focused they were on that plan, the faster they’d find Elf. 

“All right,” Charles said after a pause, “Logan and Janos will each take a carriage while me, Erik, and Edie will ride on a horse each. Mr Lehnsherr do you—”

“Ah, no, my dear.”

“Beg your pardon?” Charles said, turning his attention on Edie.

“I shall not join you.”

“Why not, mother?”

She smiled at her son’s affronted look, then sobered up. “Well, somebody needs to stay here and clean up. I am not going to leave our house open for every burglar, thief and dishonest person to saunter in as if he were at the marketplace. Besides, darling,” she told Erik, “I don’t suppose you will return fresh and ready to work from this, so somebody needs to stay on top of things here. With all the ruckus that has happened at our Mrs Dubonne’s party, I expect the Lord Chamberlain himself to grace these streets soon.”

Charles shared a glance with Erik, while Logan grinned. He liked this woman more and more. Too bad her son was such an ass.

“She has a point,” Logan said. “And if the intel is right, we might not even return to London. Westchester is closer by one hour if we cut through Greenburgh.”

Charles opened his mouth, but Ms Frost cut him.

“I can stay behind and help Mrs Lehnsherr,” Ms Frost offered and Charles bestowed a smile upon her.

“Mr Powers,” Erik turned towards his coachman, “would you mind helping the ladies out?”

“Not at all, sir. It would be my honour.”

No one was fooled by the seemingly innocuous exchange between the two. But Logan supposed that he’d leave as many people behind that could act as shields to someone he cared about as he could. Maybe the son was not without redeeming qualities.

Then Lehnsherr’s mother approached him as Lehnsherr and Charles went through the plan once again with Janos. Her watery blue eyes were bright with the simmering of a cold, vicious fury only a mother could possess. And he thought that because of what she said next.

“You bring back my boy safe and sound, understood?”

***

But as it turned out, the plan they initially departed with and on which they all agreed, changed when they reached the outskirts of the Shaw residence. Logan and Janos parked the two carriages off the road, using the thick trees and bushes to conceal them. They also put bags of hay and dried grass mixture around their necks to keep them busy. Erik and Charles’ horses were leashed nearby, left to eat the grass around. 

At first, Logan suggested they each ride a horse, but Charles had the presence of mind to remind them that they will most probably find a lot of mutants, and they needed the transport.

“The intel was wrong,” Logan says, where he’s crouching at Charles’ right. 

There’s a pause in which Charles subtly gleans off the surface thoughts of the many guards patrolling around the castle, then, “no, the intel was right. The news that Shaw died not two hours ago reached them.”

“So they’re like a beehive without their queen,” Logan commented.

But Charles was frowning. There was something off about the guards. As if they had, indeed, a hive mind, and not individual, distinct ones. And then the warmth at his side was gone and Charles looked to his left just to see Erik walking around the bush and sauntering down the front driveway like he owned the place. 

“Erik no!” Charles called out as he, too, stood and went after him.

There was something Logan said, but Charles was too focused on Erik to pay any attention as he bridged the distance between them just as Erik lifted a hand, fingers spread.

“Mr Lehnsherr, what are you doing?” Charles found his polite, if a bit indignant, voice again. “This is not the plan we agreed on and now we are in the open!”

“Live a little, Charles,” Erik said, a sharp grin accentuating the laugh lines around his eyes.

Just as Charles was about to protest and maybe physically pull Erik back, the front door came away from its fixtures as if pushed out by an inside force, and the guards took notice of them. But the door fell on the stairs and Erik frowned.

“Now we have their attention,” Charles pointed out, simply giving up on his initial plan of drawing Erik back to safety. But when he glanced up as the guards were advancing on them, he saw the troubled look on Erik’s face. “What is the matter?”

“I can feel the steel on them, but I cannot access it. It is as if— it is just beyond my reach.”

Charles frowned. “Is it the distance?”

“No. The door was farther away than they are.”

And they were gaining territory on them. Actually, they ran as if their lives depended on it, so Charles quickly stepped in front of Erik and placed two fingers at his temple to focus his mind on the hoard of guards coming towards them.

“What is it with you and placing yourself in front of me?” Erik asked conversationally as Charles managed to freeze the whole hoard at once.

“For protection.”

“I am not defenceless anymore. I was not before either.”

Charles’ mouth lifts in a tremulous smile, finding it strange that he’s having such a hard time keeping the guards still when their minds were so easily accessible to him.

“I still see you as a human.”

That was when the warmth at his back and the gravel purr in his ear almost made him slip.

“Would you have preferred I change the colour of my skin or grew horns and wings?”

The fight inside Charles’ mind and heart was vicious at best, downright paralysing at worst. But just when his hold actually slipped and the guards began moving again, two human-sized whirlwinds swept away the left flank.

“If you two are done having your tea conversation,” Logan griped as he made an impressive arc at Charles’ side, his claws thrusting into the chest of a guard. “There’s work to do.”

“So much for our element of surprise,” Charles said long-suffering.

“We never had one,” Logan quips, the boyish grin on his face telling Charles everything he needed to know about how much he was enjoying this turn of events.

As he already knew, Logan dealt better with problems if he could make use of his claws and inhuman strength. But his attention was diverted, once again, as three guards encroached upon them and Erik was still trying to use his power but without a result. He could feel the annoyance radiating off of his friend, so he placed a hand on Erik’s shoulder.

“Relax,” Charles said softly. 

He didn’t need to have physical contact with Erik to help him, but his instinct told him that Erik needed this— they both did. It didn’t take him much to do as Charles told him, in the meantime the guards taking out slim-looking swords, the blade extending back along their forearm. This was probably the reaction to Logan telling them that they used the wrong weapon to kill him.

“Now reach out,” he added.

There was a bit of resistance from Erik at first, as if he didn’t trust Charles’ words, but then he relaxed again and did what Charles told him without thinking. Charles felt the mental touch of his power. He felt Erik’s mind blooming shyly with his mutant ability and Charles sucked in a breath because that was a sight of pure beauty for him.

In the end, Erik managed to twist the blades around their arms and then crush the helmets inlaid with iron. It took Charles a bit to realise what Erik did as he had been too focused on staring at Erik’s mind.

“Mr Lehnsherr!” he said out loud.

Erik blinked at him. “What?”

“You killed them.”

“I—” He, too, seemed to realise that, as his expression filled with shock and then guilt.

Logan threw the body of a guard at their feet, helmet off. The desiccated head of a dead person stared back at them from hollow eyes.

Charles sucked in a breath. “They’re—”

“Dead,” Logan supplied, and they all looked back at the bodies strewn across the front lawn. “All of them. There isn’t a live guard to be seen.”

“What in the name of science is happening—”

But his head snapped up at the unfamiliar feeling that chilled him to the bone, as if a ghost just passed through him.

“What is the matter, Charles?”

“We have no time. We need to get to the mutants before it is too late,” he said, hurrying towards the front entrance without waiting for the others.

They followed him, and Charles led them blindly towards the place in the castle he felt the most minds shining to him— coincidentally being the dungeons. But as soon as they entered, the doors pulled shut behind them and Charles became simultaneously aware of the fact that he wasn’t the only telepath in the room and that something far more powerful and sinister was lurking in the shadows.

“Well, well, well,” a scientist— no, Kurt Marko, came from behind blocks of dark grey and rusty brown devices with many buttons and flickering lights all connected through a conundrum of cords and tubes to a huge generator that lay behind it. “More mutants to advance our plan.” 

Our? Charles looked around, but the only thing he could see were iron tubes inlaid into the walls where the mutants lay in a dormant state and rusty metal grates in the middle of the floor above which iron chains fell at various lengths. The whole room was lit by electric lamps, which didn’t help the interior look less dirty and humid. 

There was only one tube that was laying flat on a table pushed almost behind the generator.

“Thank you, Charles,” Marko continued, his black, shiny gloved hands twined in front of a dirty white lab coat. The dark-tinted goggles lay on his forehead as if they had interrupted him from an experiment. _ “For bringing them to me.” _

The chill that ran down his spine at the change in Marko’s voice, sounding like the juxtaposition of two vocal timbers, told him more than he wanted to know. They were not alone.

“Everybody, shield—” he shouted, but the room disappeared from his field of vision before he could finish his sentence.

***

Erik saw Charles’ terrified expression before his face went slack and Erik made it in time to catch his falling body.

“Charles, Charles! What’s happening? Charles!”

He heard Logan mutter curses and call Janos’ name, and when Erik looked behind him, Logan was crouching near Janos’ unconscious body, slapping him lightly.

“He’s out cold,” Logan relayed, standing up.

“What happened to them?”

He couldn’t help the fear creeping in his voice. For the first time since he met Charles, he was confronted with a marrow-deep coldness. He hadn’t been aware until now, but Charles had always been with him, even when miles upon miles separated them. A part of Charles’ mind had remained with Erik, culling the worst of his fears and soothing his worries. He had no idea how that was possible, but he’d seen stranger mutant abilities to apply logic to this.

“He’s not the only telepath in the room,” Logan said with a grim face, scanning the tubes.

Marko chuckled and Erik directed his anger at him, still cradling Charles’ head in the crook of his elbow.

“What did you do to them?”

_ “I simply incapacitated the mutants that could have created problems.” _

“You think I can’t do a lot of damage?” Logan sneered, his claws out in the blink of an eye and advancing on Marko.

_ “Not when you’re busy.” _

Just as Logan was prepared to pounce like a predator on his prey, Kurt appeared out of nowhere and Logan came to a sudden halt, his right hand that had been lifted at head level mere millimetres away from gouging Kurt’s eyes out.

The second it took for everybody to realise this, Kurt acted, one hand slapping away Logan's, while he kicked Logan in the ribs with enough force to send him into the wall. 

Not for the first time in his life, Erik felt powerless and out of his depth. Logan had no choice but to fight Kurt, and Janos and Charles were unconscious. That left him, but he had barely managed to use his powers outside. And most of that with Charles’ help. He could not rely on his friend for the help he needed at the moment.

But he could not stay still and wait for somebody else to save him— them. He was not that kind of person. Life had taught him that the outcomes he wanted always happened when he fought for them, when he did not give up at the first obstacle.

_ “Now that the annoying flies are out of the way,” _ Marko— or whoever was using him to speak, said, _ “I’ll help myself to your power.” _

This was the obstacle, and Erik needed to overcome it to reach the outcome he wanted. He looked down at Charles. He needed Erik. This time around he needed Erik to take control of the situation and save them.

And Erik would not disappoint.

“Why didn’t you take us all out?” Erik asked, glaring at the scientist while he felt around the room at the iron that was singing to him. So much of it that he knew he could manipulate it if he concentrated hard enough.

He also felt a foreign touch against his mental defences, for now just prodding and looking for weaknesses.

_ “There was no need. I only had to take out the ones that could have posed a problem. I don’t need every mutant to be unconscious for me to use them.” _

“What makes you think that I shall let you use me?”

_ “Please. You barely came into your abilities not long ago. You’re still a baby mutant trying out his powers. Do you think that the ceiling would fall down on this human I’m using if you concentrate enough on it?” _

That took Erik out of his loop. The mental touch was still there, but how could he have known that that was his intention?

He chuckled darkly. _ “You underestimate me because you do not know what I am capable of. I am more powerful than your dear Charles.” _

Erik frowned. “Powerful enough to control a small army of dead people, take out mutants, and control a human.”

_ “Two. But you killed that one.” _

Well, that was an answer to a question they hadn’t thought to ask. The metal was still a thrum that he could feel in his own bones. He tightened the hold he had on Charles, remembering his words and trying to relax even though he only wanted to tear the place apart without thinking about the consequences.

Subtlety had always been Charles’ domain.

Another dark chuckle from Marko. _ “You look like a lost puppy without your master to help you along your way. Tell me, Erik, how would your world become if Charles were to die?” _

His facial muscles shifted from a glare to cold, deadly fury as the rush of blood dampened his human senses, but enhanced the one that counted. Without even thinking about it, he reached for the first metal shape around them, ripped it off and thrust it through Marko’s back. He released his hold on the tube that had been connected to the generator and Marko’s body fell down with a sickening squelch.

It took him a moment to realise that the harsh sounds he was hearing were his own erratic breaths. He gathered Charles closer to his chest, feeling both a sense of accomplishment, but also a pitless sadness as his gaze caressed his closest friend’s slack features.

“Charles,” he began, his voice growing, “Charles, please, if you can hear me, come back to me! Please!”

“He needs,” Logan called out from the other side of the room where he was fighting Kurt, “an anchor.”

“What?” Erik called back, actually looking at Logan instead of staring at an unconscious Charles.

“He needs somebody— to latch— onto. A mind. He can’t— fight— alone. Not that strong.”

“Okay, okay, okay.”

He pushed his hand up and pulled metal plates down around them, shielding them both from the ongoing fights.

He had to think of a way to reach Charles. What did he do at the party? He felt him then. A sort of— something— warm and— peaceful. It felt like being in a trance, but that had been Charles taking control of his mind and freezing him. He didn’t like that idea, but he had also never felt so close to Charles. As if he only needed to turn his head and he’d be there, smiling at him.

“Charles,” he said close to Charles’ cold cheek, “if you can hear me, please, _ please _come in.”

His forehead touched Charles’ temple and he concentrated hard on letting all his shields down while he kept calling Charles’ name.

***

“Of course they needed a room,” Logan muttered as Kurt appeared behind him and kicked him in the ribs again. “Dirty move, Elf!” he griped, but he was grinning even as Kurt disappeared.

His sharp gaze perused the room, trying to anticipate Elf’s next appearance. 

“When we get out of here,” he began, “we’re gon’ spar. Just you an’ me. No mind control. No nothin’.” His hand shot out and caught Kurt by the throat just as he appeared, while the other bent, his metal claws pushing out slowly just as he pinned Kurt to the cold, stone wall. “Hear me, Elf?”

He received a kick to his head for his troubles, before he disappeared once again.

***

“Jean.” Is the first thing he says and thinks upon opening his eyes.

He had been forcibly locked away in his own mind— or a place that was between his mind and Jean’s. Her flowing red hair was straight rather than curled up the way she used to keep it in their college years. When she turned, her face had not aged a bit. She was still twenty-two of age, still looking at Charles with a mix of fondness and challenge. 

“Jean, what happened to you?” he asked, sorrow sneaking into his voice as he stepped closer to her.

A sad smile graced her lips. “I’m sorry, Charles. I truly am. I was not able to fight it.”

“It? What do you mean?”

Her eyes sneaked glances behind her.

“There is this… force inside me. It has always been dormant, but then Scott— she killed him.”

The distress in her voice reverberated through him, and the white space around them flickered to life with Jean’s memories. Here the sight of a young man, dark-tinted glasses and a boyish smile. There the touch of his hand on her cheek. The emotions poured out like a tidal wave Charles was unable to stop and he found himself tearing up at how much sorrow she held.

“Oh, Jean, I am so, so sorry for what happened to you.” He reached out to touch her cheek, but she appeared behind him, her back turned.

“I managed to contain her afterwards,” she continued as if Charles had not said anything. “It took me a lot, but the only way I could think of was to shut down her access to my body. She can’t use me to move freely. She depends upon the tube,” an image with the tube he saw lying on a metal table appears at his right, “to keep my body intact and alive. But I cannot stop her from using my mind to control others.”

“She controlled Marko and the others.”

She turned a tired eye on him. “And Shaw.”

Charles blinked in surprise. “But he’s— was the Queen’s—”

She nodded grimly. “Her youngest daughter has an ability that shields her from a telepath’s power and she unconsciously projected it to her mother. She couldn’t use Shaw to control the Queen.”

“How do we stop her?”

“You kill my body.”

“No! I won’t— Jean, I cannot do that!”

Her expression turned into grim determination. “It’s the only way. I can’t fight her from the inside. As soon as I get out of this space, she’ll consume me and gain control over my mind and body. I can’t let her harm more people.”

Charles opened his mouth to counter that, but he was suddenly pulled out of that space and into a thick darkness.

_ My, my, I see you’ve reunited with your long, lost friend. _

“Leave her alone! Why are you doing this?”

“It wouldn’t do me any good to explain that to you.” Jean— or rather the projection of Jean sauntered towards him in a shiny, skin-tight black suit that covered the side of her head and the forehead, leaving the red hair to flow around as if prey to a wind.

With a flick of her hand, Charles found himself thrown into a wall that had not been there before. Looking around, he recognised the room as being Jean’s old college room. The bed was on the other side, the desk with the lamp pushed under the window and the closet near the door— where dark Jean had a hand on her canted hip.

“Do you really think you can save her— from herself?” she asked, a sharp smirk on her lips. She jutted her chin up and Charles slammed into the ceiling, groaning as he turned on his side; the place changed again and they were in his manor’s parlour. “Scott tried. He tried so hard he ended up dead. He was rather cute— in his futile attempts.”

Just as Charles managed to push himself up metal enveloped around him, palm wide, and started to tighten slow but steady until he fell back into the thick darkness. He struggled, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. She crouched at his side, cold eyes assessing him.

“Do you think your dear Erik will be able to save you? Or Logan save the mutants?” 

She conjured a tilted image through the eyes of someone lying down. Logan was fighting Kurt and losing, and his body was on the ground. Erik was nowhere in sight.

“That’s right. Where’s your dear friend? Where did he go? Did he abandon you so quickly? Or is he already dead?”

Erik’s body appeared right next to Charles, his ashen face making Charles jolt back and realising that he was not bound anymore. He scrambled back and the darkness covered Erik’s body slowly, as if tar was dragging him in. He knew, logically, that these were mind games, designed to make him doubt himself, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that they triggered his fear.

_ You’re all alone, Charles, _ the taunting voice continued and the image of his parents’ carriage appeared right at his side as it passed over the bridge that promptly collapsed and they fell into the whirling river. 

The only survivor of that crash had been him. He watched as his ten years old self fought tooth and nail against the roiling river as the rain pelted down on him and made everything look like it was a single river and he couldn’t find the pockets of air. But he managed to swim to the shore and collapsed there, traumatised and fatigued.

_ Again. _

The moment Raven left for Vienna.

_ And again. _

The moment Hank left for the American Colonies.

_ And again. _

The absence of Erik by his side, an absence that was fresh and it made him feel as if he’d been ripped apart and stitched back together with cold logic and ignorance, the stitches unclean and angry red.

_ You’ve been alone all your life, Charles. _

He whirled around, the voice feeling as if it caressed his ear, but nothing was there except— a city on fire, the ruins of white marble that must have been imposing buildings lapped at by the lazy, warm waves of the sea.

“What is this place? I’ve never seen it.”

“Of course you haven’t,” she said, once again taking Jean’s appearance at his side. “This has happened long before you were born. Longer even before your country was even a country.”

Frowning, a little wary, but also curious, he stepped into the image, criss-crossing the rubble until he reached what looked like the entrance of the city. A half standing arch on which a piece of carved stone lay read _ G E. _

He looked around and found the rest of the arch, now in pieces, but some of it was intact. 

_ H A _was carved into another piece of stone, half of the ‘h’ missing.

It didn’t take Charles long to piece it together.

“Impossible.”

“Legends are often born from truth,” she said solemnly, “even if that truth cannot be scientifically proven.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

“Because you need to see what happens when humans discover the power mutants hold.”

“Not all humans are evil!”

She grinned. “Not all humans are good, either.”

“This is not the solution you’re looking for!”

“But do you know the problem I’m looking the solution for?”

Charles inhaled, but he came up with nothing. She never told Charles why she did what she did. He only inferred from what he saw and pieced together. Whispered voices echoed around, but he seemed to be the only one aware of them as she simply gazed back at him. Was this another of his mind games?

“What are you trying to do?”

“As I told you, telling you would do me no good.”

“Then how can I help you if I don’t—”

A humourless laugh interrupted him. “You and your good Samaritan intentions. Always ready to lend a helping hand to whoever needs it. Not everybody wants it.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

_ Give up, Charles. _

He was looking into the void again. Turning around didn’t pull up any results.

_ Give up, Charles. _

_ You’re all alone. _

_ Charles. _

_ Give up. _

_ Nobody can save you. _

_ Charles— hear me— _

_ Give yourself to me. _

** _Give up._ **

He was reduced to his knees as he tried to block the increasingly loud voice chipping away at his mental strongholds like a child tearing through a mound of earth. He felt her getting nearer and nearer to pushing through, the mental press was inhuman. It felt like the air around him was crushing his skull and for a single moment everything quieted down.

_ Charles! _

And then screeching shouts exploded, Charles grabbing the lifeline that was the voice desperately calling to him and letting himself be pulled by it— back into the waking world.

“Charles, Charles! Please come back to me! Charles, if you can—”

“I’m here my friend,” Charles croaked, trying to distinguish Erik’s features and not comprehending why it was so dark around them.

“Charles!” 

He was pulled into a crushing hug, so crushing that Charles felt Erik’s rabbiting heart.

“You’re safe! You’re here!”

“It’s not over,” Charles said, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness, slivers of light were coming from various places in the small space they were in. He didn’t have time to ask Erik where they were, though.

“What?” He pulled back to look at Charles.

“I know the cause of all of this, and to stop her I need to go back and fight her,” he said as he mentally knocked on Logan’s mind, relying the information when he was allowed in.

“No! You can’t. You almost— you’ve no idea how— your pulse decreased so much that I couldn’t hear it. I thought—”

Charles cupped Erik’s cheek. “I won’t die. You’ll be there to anchor me.”

“What?” 

“I need you for this. I need you to lend me your mind so that I can safely come back.”

“I— of course. Whatever you need.”

Charles smiled, and then laid his head down on Erik’s knees, Erik sneaking his arm under it to make him more comfortable. Closing his eyes, he dived back in, latching onto Jean’s mind.

“You have something wrong,” Charles said, meeting dark Jean’s gaze head on as he walked towards her on the first floor of his manor’s hallway, stopping at the top of the stairs leading towards the second floor. “I’m not alone.”

He lifted his hand above his shoulder level just as Erik materialised in front of him. Her face contorted, the shadows accentuating it, and she flew towards them.

_ What do I do? _Erik asked, impatiently.

Charles didn’t take his eyes off of her. _ You use your imagination. This is the space between your mind and mine. She is just a guest here. _

Hesitantly, Erik lifted his hand and with a flick of it a big chunk of wall peeled off and crushed her in the opposite one.

_ It actually hit her! _

Charles’ smirk was the kind one who had complete control over a situation would show.

_ We are far from being done, my friend. She might not have much power here, but she is still a strong foe. Be on guard. _

Erik looked at him as dark Jean destroyed the wall that had been oppressing her.

_ You’re enjoying this, _Erik observed.

Charles nodded, meeting his gaze. _ I have never felt this in tune with my own ability, seeing as I spent most of my life keeping a lid over it. The link to your mind provides the needed anchor for me to fully explore the extent of my power. _

Erik’s lips were ajar by the end of Charles’ explanation, and Charles took a step forward, coming to stand at Erik’s side. He used his fingers to focus his mind, more out of reflex than a necessity, and went straight for the dark force’s core, tearing through it like a knife through flesh. It yielded, but only just, enough to make the tearing harrowing.

It was the first time Charles used such an aggressive move, and the moment he realised that, the split second he paused, she took control and pushed back, slamming Charles into a wall that had not been there before and making him sink into it.

“Charles!”

“Watch out Erik!”

He reacted too late as she immobilised him and lifted him off the ground, choking him.

** _Your weakness will be your downfall, _ **she said, her voice becoming distorted, as if it came from more than one mouth.

_ I am not a murderer! _Charles sent with his telepathy, his voice vibrating in the mental space they were in.

She inclined her head. ** _Didn’t you know? Kindness is what kills the most._ **

But just as Charles’ head was starting to sink into the wall, a hole opened up underneath her and she fell, releasing the grip on Erik. He crashed on the floor, coughing and gasping for air, but before he had time to regain control over himself, he was scrambling up getting a hold of Charles and pushing him out of the wall.

“Are you okay?” Erik asked between gulps of air.

“Yeah, yeah, I am. Thanks to you.” He smiled up at him, and Erik mirrored it.

The floor cracked, breaking the window as she crashed through the ceiling, murderous intent on her face. Erik faced her, his broader back shielding Charles from her view.

“You won’t lay a single finger on him!” he promised darkly.

“Don’t goad her!” Charles said, trying to pull Erik back by the elbow.

A knife wound split on her face in the form of a grin. “You think?”

Her whole body caught up in flames as she flew towards Erik, who made it in time to push Charles out of the window and take the brunt of it. 

Outside, Charles looked down at the long block that was his hallway in a sea of white before he mentally decomposed the block in time to see Erik make a shield out of the metal around him to withstand her flames.

“Erik!” 

Another block came out of nowhere and crashed into the middle of the existing one and into dark Jean, pushing her within Charles’ grasp. But Erik was not done as he came up, metal plates enveloping his whole body, smoothing over and becoming a cohesive armour, that then changed colour from silver to magenta with purple delineating what looked like knee high boots. The line of purple extended on the sides, and created a belt around his trim waist, before a purple cape appeared out of nowhere.

Charles was not sure that he liked Erik’s fashion sense.

The only thing that missed from the attire was a helmet, but he did not have time to make suggestions as Jean released her flames all around her. Erik was instantly by Charles’ side, shielding him, and losing the cape in the process.

“She’s too powerful. How do we defeat her?” Erik asked, his arms protective around Charles.

“We need to hold out for a little while.”

Erik frowned. “Why do you look so sad? What’s wrong, Charles?” He looked back to where Jean had been.

***

“Come on, Elf,” Logan called out, moving around the room prepared to snap into action at the slightest sound, “stop playing hide ‘n seek! I’m here. Come and get me!”

As if to answer Logan’s goading, he appeared just to his side and Logan didn’t waste time as he caught him by his arm, used his leg to hook around Elf’s and pull it out from under him, and pushed his palm into his chest to slam him into the floor in such a way as to make him lose consciousness.

“Sorry, Elf,” he said gruffly. “I’ll apologise properly later.”

He pushed himself up from the knee he had been leaning on, and walked towards the tube that was lying on the table. It had no latches, no locks, no buttons. He looked back at the devices that were connected to the tube. No time for that. 

His claws thrust through the glass even though it was three centimetres thick, which meant that it took him a couple of minutes to finally break it. Inside lay a woman with dark red hair, loosely curled around her. She didn’t look more than eighteen, maybe twenty. She also didn’t seem to be breathing, but upon checking he found a feeble pulse.

He lifted his left fist, claws drawing out, but he found he couldn’t move his left hand, and more than that the hiss of the tubes opening caught his attention. The mutants held in a state of unconsciousness were awake and coming towards him like marionettes whose strings just came to life.

“Well, shit.”

It was a decision he had to make quickly because some of them had long range abilities, and Logan might be able to heal fast, but he had an inkling that he only had one shot at this and the window of opportunity was closing in quickly.

“For what’s worth,” Logan said, “I’m sorry it had to end this way.”

Claws flicked out lightning fast from the hand that had been lying near her head, piercing her skull. The mutants fell to the ground and the metal plates were pushed back as Lehnsherr and Charles emerged from underneath. Beneath the fatigued look on Charles face, sorrow and guilt mingled together as he didn’t— couldn’t meet Logan’s gaze.

He, out of all the people involved, should have known that no fight between mutants or humans was ever clean. 

***

_ Charles. _

He blinked his eyes open, the steady galloping of the horse he was on and the warmth radiating from the back his cheek was pressed on filling the gaps in.

_ Charles. _

He needed to make sure that they arrived to his manor safely. Erik— had mutant abilities. And terrible fashion tastes if he was left to his own devices. He let that sink in for a while, before he scanned the area around them, tallying the minds he could feel in his near vicinity and any other that might have hostile intent. He found none.

_ Charles. _

“What is the matter?” Charles said as soon as he tracked down the reason for the nagging feeling that something required his attention. He was so tired. His mind's eye kept slipping in and out of seeing the brilliant minds around him.

_ Are you okay? _

Was that Erik talking to him telepathically? Since when could he do that?

_ You’re projecting, you know. I cannot help but feel your exhaustion. _

_ Ah. I apologise for that. I might be just a tad on the sluggish side. _

He felt the wave of amusement Erik sent to him, and after that it was quiet. Well, quiet in his mind, because outside of it the wind still chilled him to the bone and the horse’s galloping thrummed in his body, and the two carriages in front of them still made that infernal, but soothing noise. They were heading home. They’d be safe once they reached his domain.

_ Why didn’t you tell me that you were special, Charles? _

Charles blinked his eyes open, trying to figure out if it was a mental or a verbal question, and deciding that he had no more energy left in him to make his vocal cords work, so he sent his answer into Erik’s mind.

_ I wanted to. On several occasions over the years. It just— never seemed like the right time to do that. _

_ You could have simply dropped a thought in my mind like ‘good morning’ or ‘hi, Erik, I’m special’. _

_ Really, my friend, after all that we’ve been through, you might as well start calling us mutants. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s who we are. _

He was silent for a moment, then he sent his acknowledgement.

_ Besides, _ Charles continued, _ as time passed, it seemed something of less and less importance what with you advancing in your career and making a name for yourself. So I— stopped trying. _

_ Charles Francis Xavier, are you telling me that you were worried I would reject or refuse to associate myself with you if I found out? _

Charles blinked, jarred for a moment by the tone of voice and the words Erik used. Although they were infused with annoyance at Charles, he could not ignore the similarities.

_ Edie said the exact same thing not long ago. _

_ Wait. Mother is in on this? _

Ah. He forgot about that small detail.

_ I told her not to tell you. _

_ So you’ve been— she knew about you for— how long? _

Charles swallowed, drawing comfort from Erik’s back and the warmth that his body leached greedily. _ Ever since we first met at your summer house. _

Erik muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Charles could feel the ire and hurt swirling in his mind, still so open to Charles— yet not quite. Those were just surface thoughts, things that he could glean without being detected. What lay underneath that were the thoughts that Erik still kept hidden, and Charles wouldn’t pry. Mostly because it was not his right to do that and because they felt so muddled that it would take Charles all his concentrated effort to untangle and make sense of them. And at that moment he barely had the energy to keep track of the minds around and talk to Erik.

Then there was quiet again in his mind and around him. And it held for a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**.5.**

***

The first hitch in his breath woke Logan up.

The second hitch had him up and walking barefoot in his more comfortable pants and undershirt towards the door connecting their rooms.

The sound of crashing rushed the last steps, hand almost ripping the door open and stopping just inside Elf’s room, claws ready to tear through whoever was intruding.

He scanned every nook and crevice he could lay his eyes on, but nothing seemed amiss.

Except Elf who was sprawled on the floor, the gaslamp shattered behind his elbow, his breathing erratic.

“I saw— it was there,” he pointed a trembling finger towards his bed, “I—” his breathing stopped as his mind seemed to put the pieces together, then a short, almost angry exhale was pushed from his mouth before his hands twined behind his bowing head. “It was just a dream,” he whispered to himself. “Just a dream.”

Logan’s claws slowly retracted. His corded muscles pushed against his skin, contracted with the instinctual need to go there and comfort him. He hadn’t liked the idea of Elf sleeping in a room Logan was not in, but he had no say in that decision. The compromise had been that he’d be just next door. 

Elf asked for time.

“What do you need, Elf,” he said from across the room, breath utterly under his control.

As was his mind.

And his body.

He was always in control of himself, no matter the situation.

“I— I need to be alone,” he said hesitantly.

Logan waited.

The quiet of the room was only interrupted by Elf’s breathing, still not quite calm.

Logan’s gaze did not leave him, his eyes seeing him as clear as in the daylight.

“Please,” came his hushed, almost desperate, voice again, “I— I shall be fine. Please.”

Logan was in complete control of his body, yet his legs felt as if they belonged to somebody else when he moved them. He ‘needed’ to be alone. Logan did not believe a iota of that, nor did he agree, but he respected his wish. They weren’t more than acquaintances, strangers who had fought together and against each other, even if Elf didn’t seem to remember that last part. Nothing connected them except, perhaps, a tenuous trust, so fragile that a wrong word could break it.

So why were his instincts raging at him to go back there?

The answer to that was, perhaps, clearer in the quiet of the night than during the day.

** _19 hours earlier (3am)_ **

Only one light illuminated the dark manor, and it was situated in the parlour near the entrance. Logan spurned the two horses on as they fast approached the fountain. The light moved out of the room and for several moments the whole manor was plunged into darkness as Logan pulled the horses to a stop, before the front door opened.

“Logan?” Raven said, surprise painted over her dark blue features, reflecting the light of the gaslamp. “What are you doing here?” She peered at the carriage and then at the one behind him, driven by Janos.

Then Lehnsherr pulled his horse to a stop in front of her and she almost dropped the gaslamp. Logan jumped down from the front seat, opening the door and gently pulling Elf from the pile of bodies leaning on each other into his arms, bridal style.

“Charles? Charles! What happened?” she asked, the fear mounting in her voice as Logan turned around with his unconscious mutant.

Lehnsherr had stopped somewhere on the road and placed Charles in front of him because Logan remembered Charles insisting on riding behind.

“I shall explain everything inside,” Lehnsherr said gravely, brooking no argument as he dismounted slowly. Then he pulled Charles into his arms, much like Logan had Elf. “Could you please wake up the servants and call a doctor or two? There are a dozen unconscious mutants in the carriages that most probably need medical attention.”

Her hand covered her mouth and nodded, placing the gaslamp on the paved bit right at the foot of the stairs. She took a step forward, touching Charles’ arm and exchanging a glance with Lehnsherr before she nodded again and ran back inside.

“Where is his room?” Lehnsherr turned the question on Logan.

Logan jutted his chin towards the entrance. “Follow me.” But he stopped not two steps forward and looked back at the second carriage. “Janos?”

Janos fluttered a hand after he stretched and cracked his neck on both sides. “Go. I shall be fine.”

Logan nodded and caught up to Lehnsherr, preceding him right before he could enter the manor. He left them in Charles’ bedroom and then climbed the second flight of stairs to his room. His logic was telling him to place Elf in the room connected to his, but his instincts disagreed. He was too high strung from the fight to want Elf anywhere _ not _in his line of sight. For the moment, he stopped thinking, and acted on his gut instincts.

He managed a couple of hours, maybe three, of fretful sleep. He kept waking up to check on the mutant on the other side of the bed. He never moved from the position Logan laid him, and at one point Logan even checked his pulse to make sure he was still alive, even though he didn’t smell like a dead person.

The first chirp of the dawn woke him up, and from then on he couldn’t fall asleep at all.

***

A sharp noise from outside the room snapped Erik’s eyes open at once, adrenaline surging up. It took him a few seconds to realise that the noise had been a door slamming shut somewhere on the floor.

Then his eyes focused on the near vicinity and his hand came into focus, twined with another hand right above the space between the two pillows. He lifted his head when his gaze found Charles’ face in profile.

He was sound asleep, his breaths deep and measured and Erik let his head fall back on the pillow taking in a deep breath before he released it.

It hadn’t taken Ms Darkholme long before she had joined them the previous night. She was again the white skinned, blond haired girl he had known. Erik had just managed to pull the covers back and then place Charles down on the soft mattress before she appeared with a tray of tea and a cloth with a bowl of steaming water.

He turned and looked at her and for a moment both paused where they were before she released a soft sigh and placed the tray on the table behind Erik where a deep burgundy settee lay and a gramophone on a high table at its side.

“How is he?” she asked as Erik took off Charles’ boots, then his vest and unfastened his trousers’ button but did not take them off. 

“Asleep.”

She came by his side, her palm touching Charles’ shin, emotions pouring on her face so quickly that he could not follow them. Then her blue gaze found his and it sharpened.

“What happened to you? Why are there a dozen unconscious mutants in my home? Why is my brother unconscious?”

He sat heavily on the chair nearby, elbows propped on his knees. He told her everything that happened, not once making eye contact with her because the Persian rug had intricate models on it and it was easier to concentrate on them than to be distracted by what he might see in her eyes.

In between an event and the other, she took the bowl with steaming water and the cloth and started cleaning Charles face, then his chest. She pulled out his shirt from his trousers and then took off his socks so she could wash his feet, too. By the end of Erik’s tale she made sure that Charles was as comfortable as he could be.

She took the bowl back on the table, now less transparent than before. Erik still did not meet her gaze until she stopped in front of him and he had to lean back. She offered him a cup of tea which he accepted with muttered thanks.

“The way you spun that tale, it makes it look like it was all your fault,” she said, hands on her hips.

Earl Grey tasted like mud water, and it wasn’t because she was unable to prepare the finest tea.

He glanced sideways at the half of face he could see from above the pillow his head had sunk in.

“Mr Lehnsherr,” she commanded his attention, lips pursed and a serious expression on her otherwise always agreeable or mischievous face, “if there is one thing that I know for sure about my brother is that he would never blame someone for things that were out of their control. You might feel guilty for what happened, but that does not mean that you are to blame for them. Now, please, make yourself comfortable,” she continued, motioning with her arm towards the bed, “and try to sleep. You will feel better in the morning. Trust me.”

Erik glanced at the bed, then at her.

At that moment the mischievous glint returned in her eyes, as well as it curled the corners of her delicate mouth.

“Charles had always hated that bed,” she said, moving over to take the cold cup of tea from Erik’s hand and placing it on the tray. “He complains that it is too big for just him.” She stopped before the door, tray between her hands, and turned a soft smile on Erik. “Sleep, Mr Lehnsherr. He shan’t go anywhere.”

Left alone in the quiet of the room, Erik wondered why he was not allowed to be near his friend. The more he thought about it, the more appealing the bed looked like. He made fast work of his coat and boots, relieving himself of the uncomfortable trousers. His black shirt reached mid-thigh, and he was too tired (now that he was relaxed) to think about decorum. He slipped under the covers on the other side and sighed deeply.

Right before he fell asleep, his hand reached for Charles’ and placed them on top of the pillows, twined loosely.

***

There were fifteen rooms on the second floor in the central part of Mr Xavier’s manor. All of them were spacious, furnished with expensive wood, curtains, rugs and upholstery. He catalogued the left wing from top to bottom in just two days. The new place was starting to feel like it could become something familiar — something safe.

His thoughts strayed back to his room— and the room joined to his.

Ever since he woke up after the kidnapping, there was a buzzing feeling underneath his skin that demanded he kept moving, kept being in motion. That impatience did not even allow him to eat in peace. It was always on the run, so he preferred sandwiches or just bread. It all tasted like nothing, his attention focused on cataloguing where each room was and their interior decorum. Few were similar.

Mr Xavier certainly had not looked at the expenses.

Even his protector hadn’t invested that much into the rooms she was not using.

Just as he stepped down on the first floor, he almost slammed into Kitty.

“Kurt!” Her whole face lit up with the warm smile he got used to seeing. “Where have you been? Charles is looking for you. As are the others.”

“The others?” He didn’t know any others.

“Yes, Raven, Erik, Janos, and Logan. Well, less Logan. He’s been brooding and hiding in the old barn near the stables, tinkering on that monstrosity that he calls motorcycle.”

“I have been exploring.”

Understanding dawned on her face. “Ah, familiarising yourself with your surroundings.” He nodded. He did the same when he came to live with his late guardian and after that at the Lehnsherr residence. “How is it going?”

“I finished the left wing. Did not expect to find so many bedrooms that look like they are ready to host someone overnight.”

She chuckled. “That wing so happens to be the most used one. You’ll see that the right one has empty rooms or rooms used for storage.”

Kurt nodded, thinking about it.

“Will you join us for supper?”

He glanced outside the window at the overcast sky. He couldn’t tell what time of day it was.

“Um, I don—”

“Logan will be there,” she said serenely. “Charles said that he will join us if he has to drag him out of his hideout.”

Kurt frowned at the phrasing, not comprehending why it was imperative for the two of them to join the others for supper.

“I— think I will decline,” he said, edging around her, the jitters starting anew. “Still so much to discover and— all.”

He waved awkwardly and made an about face without waiting for her reply. There was something wrong with him if spending time with Kitty, even conversing about trivial things, did not calm his mind as it did before, when he appeared in her home. But what was giving him grief was something else, something that had nothing to do with the loss of his guardian.

And the harrowing thing was that he could not explain what was wrong with him even to himself.

So he opened doors and checked rooms. 

***

Charles was fiddling with one stubborn cufflink on his left wrist — _ the _left hand — as he re-entered his room. Erik was shuffling awake underneath the heavy duvet, most probably because of the rare rays of morning light that fell straight on his pillow.

By that time, Charles usually greeted his sister with a mental _ good morning, _but Erik sitting up from among the white and ruby sheets, hair sticking out at odd and endearing angles, knuckles rubbing the sleep away from one eye and the black satin shirt smoothly and immodestly gliding down to reveal the peak of a round shoulder surrounded by fine muscles— 

The whole picture was, indeed, quite distracting. It robbed Charles of precious control and he gravitated almost like a thought through a dream towards Erik’s side of the bed, blocking the sunrays.

“Good morning, Mr Lehnsherr,” Charles said genially, polite smile hiding the frantic beating of his heart and the struggle to keep his mind from reaching into Erik’s.

His surface thoughts reached Charles like muffled words spoken in an adjacent room.

The close proximity between them from the previous night and the events that had transpired the previous day had unbalanced Charles enough that he had heightened and expanded his mental defences. But he was not sure he would be able to keep them up for long. It was such a tiring business, especially considering that he was in his own house where theoretically he should feel relaxed and comfortable.

The cufflink remained a stubborn little white marble that did not feel like passing through the hole it was supposed to. He pressed his lips together and focused his attention on it instead of the way Erik looked up at him as if that was the first time he ever saw Charles and had a momentary lapse in verbal communication. But he was sure that the strong light at his back masked his features so the poor man was most certainly trying to see his face.

“Morning, Charles,” he murmured in the end, then paused. “Do you need assistance with that?” he asked after a moment of possibly staring in the same direction as Charles was, bless his heart.

Finally, Charles simply gave up on trying to reason with the cufflink and with the most put upon sigh he offered his wrist, palm up for Erik’s inspection. There was a _ petite _smile softening the corners of his mouth as warm hands cupped without touching much of Charles’ hand and worked on making the cufflink behave.

It took less than a few seconds, certainly less than ten heartbeats — and Charles’ heart beat a double tempo almost per half second.

Looking down at the man still partially hidden beneath the covers pooled in his lap and that menacing naked shoulder, Charles wondered why he could not touch. Why he was forbidden from ever expressing the tumult beneath his ribs when the man whose affections Charles guarded with the utmost care and protectiveness was not an arm’s length away, open and so, _ so _ delectable.

Just a short distance away. That was what separated them in that moment and Charles _ yearned _to reach out and caress a cheek, follow the gentle curve of his jaw, press a thumb to his lips— 

He stepped back. The early morning came back to the fore of his mind and he felt his mental defences wobble and threaten to let everything that was clamouring behind spill over.

“Thank you for your assistance, Mr Lehnsherr,” Charles said, the smile not genuine on his face, his voice unable to quite mask the slight tremor in it. There were other ways the tumult in his chest could escape. “I shall leave you to your morning ablutions. Everything you should require is in the adjacent room,” he enumerated, already taking steps away from the gorgeously befuddled look on the still sleep mussed face of his. _ Goodness, _but he needed to leave the room. Immediately. “Breakfast shall be served in an hour. I shall see you then. Good morning— ah, I mean— good day— I shall remove myself from this place. Ta.”

The last thing his eyes took in before he ungainly and rather improperly escaped his own bedroom was the most painfully beautiful smile Erik had ever showed him, amusement creasing the corner of his eyes and doing all sorts of improper, _ good, _maddening things to Charles.

He took a moment or ten outside his closed door to calm the delirious beating of his poor heart.

Raven appeared from behind the open arch leading to the stairs.

“Ah, Charles, good morning,” she said, her light blue dress trailing a tad behind her, her coiffed blond hair had little curls framing her eyes as they bounced at her every step. “I was coming to—” 

In a few strides, Charles was at her side, palming the round part of her shoulder while his lips pressed to the opposite temple, breathing her delicate perfume in.

“— fetch you. Charles? What—”

“Just a moment, my dear,” he murmured, eyes closed and drawing as much comfort from her as he could. “A moment.”

Her head leaned back after a few moments passed, peering up at him with searching eyes. He let her see everything she needed to see on his face, but not in his mind. She narrowed her gaze, but then understanding — or something similar to that — smoothed her features and she sighed. 

His attention strayed back to the stubborn cufflink and subsequently the hand which Erik had held in his.

“Now,” he said after a few more precious moments, “you came to fetch me.”

Charles offered his arm and Raven took it before they began descending the stairs. He saluted the housekeeper as she passed them by.

“Yes,” Raven said, her voice matter-of-fact. “Ms Dane or— Polaris as she prefers to be called by her kin, and seven other mutants from the ones you three brought here are feeling better and requesting to return to London where their families are.”

“Ah, of course. Is Logan—”

“Logan refuses to leave the premises,” she interrupted, throwing Charles a meaningful glance. Charles smiled at that, knowing what she was trying to convey. “It is no amusing matter, Charles. If he keeps being this unnaturally attached—”

“My dear Raven,” he said, stopping her broken dam of indignation, “what is there to be considered unnatural to a man who wants to protect someone?”

“Protect? From who? You? Me?”

“Now, now, you know Logan feels things more— intensely than others. Besides, he has never acted like this towards anyone in the decades we have known him. At the very least we should give him time.”

She lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “So you can study them.”

“Nothing so cold and clinical, my dear.”

She rolled her eyes as they entered the corridor connecting the kitchens and the servants’ quarters. 

“The other four asked if they could be our guests for a while more,” Raven chose to continue. “Two of them are under fifteen with no family by their account and the other two are over twenty, but their families are not here, in the country.”

“Of course they are welcome to stay here as long as they like.”

“Yes, I knew you would say that so I offered them rooms on the second floor in the west wing.”

“Do you think we should prepare the east wing, too?”

“It depends on what plans you have for Christmas. I would suggest you either give the east wing to your human guests or the west.”

“So you say I shouldn’t let the kids mix with them?”

“I say it would be safer to keep the ones who are still in training and don’t have much experience dealing with humans far away during the night. Remember Baron Wilson from two Christmases ago? Jubilee still sleeps with her room locked.”

“Ah yes, Baron Wade Wilson. He had been quite— spirited that night.”

Raven lifted that expressive eyebrow again. “There are a lot of words one could use for Mr Wilson, but spirited might be a tad too delicate.”

“Poor man is still trying to win back Earl Parker’s affections.”

“Two years from that—” Raven stopped, blinking in utter amazement at Charles.

He nodded. “Earl Parker is a man of honour and loyalty, having been Mr Rogers and Duke Stark’s protégée. Mr Wilson— well, life has not been gentle with him and he is still not used to the rules and laws of land society after having been for so long at sea. Him being a man, and, as rumour has it, a pirate returned to ruin the family’s name and fortune, and on top of that making advances in public towards a gentleman— He did not give Mr Parker any choice but to publicly repudiate him.”

Raven sighed shortly and took Charles’ arm again. “At least Logan did not add to the scars that night, although he fully intended to do some permanent damage for breaching Jubilee’s rooms and promptly falling asleep in her bed.”

“Logan is very protective of the kids here,” Charles said with fondness. “And Mr Wilson had been quite heart-broken, hadn’t he?”

“Heart-broken or not, there is no control in that man. No control at all. I do not condemn Mr Parker for keeping him at arm’s length.”

Charles smiled more widely at that. “I do not know, Raven. People are full of surprises.”

She threw him a befuddled look, but had no time to ask for clarifications as they came upon the kitchens. He let her hand go as she preceded him inside.

“Good morning, Mrs and Mr Dallywell,” he greeted the two cooks, “I hope you have been well in my absence?”

“Pleasantly well, Mr Xavier,” Mrs Dallywell answered readily, still stirring something in a big pot. 

“Nothing amiss while you were gone, sir,” Mr Dallywell chirped from behind his wife and Charles smiled at the way he shifted closer to her only for her to elbow him and glare warningly which only made the man’s moustache twitch upwards. “We are happy there are more mouths to feed, although some of them are still quite indisposed and picky.”

He smiled at the man. “I am sure that you and Mrs Dallywell will think up a dish they would not be able to refuse.”

“Without fail, Mr Xavier,” Mrs Dallywell said, a grave air about her. “Otherwise we would not be deserving of being called Xavier’s cooks.”

“Nonsense, Mrs Dallywell,” Charles said, the smile warm. “You will always be this manor’s most appreciated cooks.”

“Of course, they’re the only ones we have,” Raven quipped from the other side of the room where she nibbled on a piece of freshly baked bread and the two cooks laughed heartily at that.

Charles went to the other end of the table which had an occupant already.

“Hank, my friend,” he greeted with a warm smile, pulling his friend into a hug. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. How have you been?”

“Good, good, thank you, Charles,” he said with a smile as they both took their seats, Raven coming to take hers at the head of the table between them. “And it was no trouble. I actually intended to send a letter and ask for a favourable date to come visit.”

“Oh, Hank, no letter is required. You know you are always welcome here.”

Hank nodded with a small smile. “I must say, you keep finding them left and right.”

Charles drew in a breath and then exhaled noisily as Mrs Dallywell came with their breakfasts, two freshly baked croissants for Raven, tea for all three of them, and an assortment of cured meat with bread and butter for Hank. Charles withheld from eating with them as it would not do to let Mr Lehnsherr eat alone, so he only took his morning tea.

“Could you please make Swiss eggs for Mr Lehnsherr,” Charles said, leaning towards the cook as if to appear in confidence with her. “And prepare Ceylon tea with milk and a bit of honey on the side. He prefers it that way.”

“Right away, sir,” she nodded and left to prepare what Charles had asked.

Turning around, both Raven and Hank were giving him twin amused looks and Charles had a hard time stopping the flush spreading on his cheeks. They already knew about his— his uncommon sentiments in regards to Mr Lehnsherr. Yet, he could not halt the rush of excitement and dread he felt every time his closest friends and family saw him in certain situations that would make an outsider lift an eyebrow and start suspecting.

“How is Kurt?” Charles asked, taking a sip of his tea and succeeding in diverting their attention from the teasing, knowing looks they were giving him.

“Quite well— physically,” Hank said with a pensiveness about him that had Charles fasten his gaze to his face at once. “He did not suffer any injuries like some of the other mutants, but— I am of the opinion that the damage has not been physical.”

Charles frowned, understanding what Hank was trying to say. Almost without a conscious thought, he searched for Kurt’s mind and he found it not far above them. He did the equivalent of a mental lean on and that was all it took for Kurt to panic and have Charles retreat at once. The last thing he wanted was to make Kurt distrust Charles even more. But he did catch flimsy impressions and images.

“Indeed,” he said, frowning, “he seems to be trying to push away the happenings at Mr Shaw’s castle.”

“Is that why he avoids anybody that crosses his path?” Raven asked.

“Possibly,” Charles nodded, studying the contents of his cup of tea without seeing them. “What do you suggest I do, Hank? I want to help him, but his mind has been— tampered with. Not by me,” he added gleaning the look in Hank’s eyes.

“What happened while you were away, Charles? I know I did not ask for details because the injured are more important, but really.”

With a long exhale, Charles leaned back and took a sip of his cup of tea, relaying everything that he could remember had happened the previous night. It took a lot to have Raven look horrified, and his tellings managed to do so almost within the first five minutes.

“So I am expecting a visit or at the very least a summon to the royal palace soon,” he finished. “I do not think we were inconspicuous enough. Not after the— debacle at the ball.” 

Ah, yes. There was that matter which he had actually forgot about. Erik was a mutant. It was both exhilarating and dreadful, because on one hand, one of Charles’ secret was out of the bag, on the other hand, he would have preferred to not have his friend enter that side of society.

In hindsight, it was inevitable, considering that even before they discovered Erik’s mutant nature he had been a huge aid to Charles’ cause. So maybe fearing for his life now when he had mutant powers to defend him should he need them was a tad too preposterous.

“That is,” Hank started, then stopped abruptly. “My God, Charles. Are you okay?”

Charles smiled wanly. “I am, my friend. Even if I don’t use my gift as much as I should, I still have strong mental defences— and E— Mr Lehnsherr helped anchor me when I needed to.”

“Then I suppose,” Raven said, “I have Mr Lehnsherr to thank for you returning to me with your mind intact.”

The smiled warmed and became fond. “We do.”

“Mr Xavier,” a servant came into the kitchen, his facial expression grave as if he was about to relay important, most urgent news, “Mr Lehnsherr is waiting in the drawing room.”

For Charles that was the equivalent to such news. The morning scene came to the fore of his mind at once and he thought he had regained control over his mind and body. Nonsense.

“Wonderful, please escort him to the dining room as I believe our breakfasts are ready,” he said, lifting his head some more to watch Mrs Dallywell plate Mr Lehnsherr’s breakfast. He turned his attention back to his friends who looked like the news received had been of the most joyous and entertaining ones. “I must—”

“Yes, we’re excusing you,” Raven said with a lilt in her voice. “Now go, be the host and entertain your darling guest.”

“Darling!” Charles sputtered as he stood up.

“You’re not fooling anybody, Charles,” Hank quipped and that was exactly what he was trying to avoid: Hank and Raven in cahoots to tease him. They were insufferable when they got like that, not to mention that they were precisely like a dog with a bone. “Go. We shall entertain ourselves.”

“Somehow,” Raven added with mischief in her eyes.

“I say, sometimes I wonder why I give you two the time of my day.”

“Oh, come off it, Charles,” Raven said with laughter in her voice. “You are fond of us.”

“That, I most certainly am.” He turned to leave, then stopped and turned back. “Hank, my friend, before I completely forget to ask you this: do you think you would be available in two months time for my usual annual gathering? I will, of course, send you a formal invite, but I wanted to take advantage of your presence here to ask.”

“Of course,” Hank said readily. “I was looking forward to your invite. In fact, just yesterday I was wondering when you will be sending it, since it is never at the same time of the year.”

“It is not,” Charles said with a smile, stalling as much as possible his host duties. “I prefer to host the gathering after some major scientific discovery or at the very least enough of minor ones that the invitees would have something to entertain themselves with for the entire evening.”

“Charles,” Raven quipped, even as Hank nodded in assent, “your guest of honour is waiting.”

He would very much like to sigh with much suffering, but he had been raised better than that, so he only nodded in acquiescing and took his leave.

***

Janos was the designated driver for the mutants wanting to return to London the next day and Erik gave him two letters, one from him and one from Kitty, which he was to deliver to his mother and wait for a reply before he returned.

He also had another room prepared for him, further down the hallway as it would not do to encroach on Charles’ private space.

He would like to say that everything returned to normal after that, but his mother had raised him better than that. Nothing was as normal as Erik would have liked. Later that day he was given a tour of the manor by Charles in which he was let in on the underground rooms used for training the special people who had never used their abilities or had used them very little. It was all about honing their control.

“Kitty?” he stopped mid-step as he watched in utter astonishment how his sister, dressed in man’s riding trousers and a rather large white shirt, was— was tumbling around with Mrs Darkholme.

“Oh, yes,” Charles quipped from his side, hands at his back. “She has been training with Raven since she’s been given permission to come here.”

“Whatever for?”

“She expressed a desire to help Raven train and guide the mutants that come here. I must say, she has become quite the favourite among the other mutants.”

“Why had I not been informed of this decision?” He could not keep his indignation and disapproval from his voice even as Charles sent an uncertain glance in his direction.

“I thought Edie had told you.”

“Mother knew about this?” Well, he was most put upon. Why had his own mother kept this from him?

“Well, I am sure she had her reasons,” Charles said to placate Erik’s unsettlement.

He was itching to send his mother another letter, but it would have to wait for Janos’ return. 

“Follow me, please. We shall return to the ground floor.”

Erik lingered in the open doorway, watching with disapproval, yes, but also something akin to— admiration at how easily his sister dodged Mrs Darkholme’s punches or how fast and firm she parried. He was of half a mind to tell Mrs Darkholme to be more lenient, but the two women were grinning ear from ear, and Erik surmised that his suggestion would not be met with approval.

Besides, there was a certain— charged atmosphere surrounding them that Erik did not feel right in dispelling it. He left them to their own as he followed Charles into the library.

Charles stepped out the opposite door from the one they came through when they entered.

“Martha, could you bring tea for two in the library?”

“Right away, sir.”

Erik was perusing the titles of the books covering four out of the six walls. The musty smell of old books permeated the place, but it was not unpleasant because the hexagon-shaped room was aired out daily. Erik picked up a dried leaf from under one of the plush chairs and gently inhaled the subtle smell of rot and decay.

“Now,” Charles said, his voice pleasant and Erik looked up at the brilliant man. “I was wondering if you would be amenable in helping me gather all the information that this library holds about Atlantis or, how our ancestors referred to it: Genosha.”

Erik’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline even as Charles went about perusing the ground floor shelves. 

“Do you really think it existed?” Erik asked with a pinch of salt as he placed the leaf on the nearby table.

“I suspect it did.”

“Why?” He picked the shelf right next to Charles, eyes skimming titles and names without anything jumping out at him.

“When I entered Jean's mind the first time,” Charles began absentmindedly as he pulled out a book and leafed through it with a concentrated look on his face. Erik found that his shelf held nothing interesting because watching Charles was proving to be more than he could concentrate on. “I saw an image of this island surrounded by the ocean. The city built on it was in ruins, but I could make out the name of it on a broken arch.”

Erik naturally gravitated closer as Charles stopped on a page that had as a title in curly letters: _ Atlantis: real or drunken tale? _

“So we’re rumour-chasing.”

“Rumours start from half-truths,” Charles murmured, already deep into skimming the pages for relevant information.

“Not to put a damper on your enthusiasm, Charles,” Erik said, turning towards the rest of the library, taking in wall after wall of shelves filled to the brim with books. And some on the upper level contained tomes so heavy that the wood curved downwards under the weight. “But your library is quite— daunting.”

Charles beamed at him as if Erik could not have paid him a more generous compliment if he tried. Nevertheless, Erik felt as if his entire body absorbed Charles’ unguarded smile.

“No worries my friend,” he said, moving out of Erik’s personal space to deposit the book, still open, on the large desk pushed towards the window. “If we divide the work between us, we’ll be able to inspect every shelf. Now,” he turned around and took in each shelf “you can leave that entire wall,” he pointed to the wall from which they emerged, “nothing but law texts and anatomy books. You can take the entire upper section while I take the lower half.”

So that made three half walls to stare at. “Very well. Let us occupy our afternoon.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Charles said with the warmest and rarest smile Erik has seen him display just as a knock came and then a young woman came in with the tea Charles requested.

It took Erik the better part of the afternoon to find books that even granted a paragraph on the subject of interest. He did find a handful of books that were entirely dedicated to myths, legends and rumours so he dropped them in Charles’ waiting hands one by one. There was something to be said about the fact that their eyes met and held every time Erik called his name and Charles came under the passageway to receive the book he found. He always smiled in gratitude, but he never let his gaze linger, as if he was afraid of something.

Erik’s finger paused atop the spine of a book with gold engravings. Why would Charles be afraid of anything? Certainly Erik had not given him any reason to feel like that. His gaze focused on his finger as he heard Charles turn a page and hum softly in approval. A door shut somewhere in the manor and muffled steps and voices drifted away underneath Erik where the door towards the main corridor was.

The library was quiet and a bit cold. Even without consciously reaching towards it, he could feel every bit of metal in the room, from the railing at his back to the doorknobs to the nib of Charles’ fountain pen.

His finger traced down the small engraved symbol on the book, an ‘x’ made of leaves or petals, and then over the lettering, concentrating on the dents to expel the thought that insinuated itself into his mind insolently. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the question perpetuated itself as if it was spurned by Erik’s desire of total ignorance. 

Was it his newfound powers that made Charles feel he should put some unwarranted distance between them? 

He skittered away on the first morning at the manor, then at breakfast he had been pleasant, polite, sociable, and the usual conversationalist. All of that passed through at least three different filters as if he needed to be on guard about something with Erik. The tour had been amiable, but distant, as if Erik was some kind of personality who Charles had never met and it was his duty to be on his best host role.

What was it that had his friend be so cautious around him?

He already knew about Charles being— special. He had felt his mental touch, how it had latched onto Erik’s the moment Erik had sought him out; a sinuous, almost liquid latch like thornless vines growing around Erik’s mind whispering soft flowers blooming all around. It had been unusual and rather— well, lovely, how Charles relied on Erik to keep him grounded. And it had not been a senseless worry because Erik had felt the pulsing, untapped power that lived within his friend. No wonder Charles sought to keep it under tight lid. Erik could not fathom the effects on— on the _ world _should he lose control.

And yet, Erik could not ignore the thought that whispered solicitously in his mind, how he wanted to feel that connection again. He wanted to feel Charles close to him in that way.

He shook his head vehemently. What kind of thoughts were those?

“Is something the matter, my friend?” Charles asked mildly from below and Erik yanked the book with his finger and climbed down the stairs to deposit it himself on Charles’ full desk.

“I was reminded that we never had that talk. Not really.” He watched Charles like only a wolf would something that caught his attention.

“Oh.” Charles breathed out, eyes skittering from Erik, to the books on his desk, outside the grey windows, and finally his journal. “What did you want to know?”

“Everything.” He leaned his hip against the side of the desk, one hand relaxed atop the book he brought over.

An almost shaky huff escaped him. “That might be a tad too broad, my friend. I would not know where to begin with.”

Erik inclined his head. “When was the first time you realised you had special abilities?”

There was a strange pause as Charles glanced up at him and then had to put the fountain pen down.

“Shortly before my parents’ death,” he said softly, gaze pensive. Erik waited, let Charles decide if he wanted to continue or if he wanted to change the subject. “We were on our way back from a visit to a doctor who had some knowledge of what I had, but we soon discovered that it had all been based on rumour. My parents, bless their hearts, did not know what to do with this ability, how to engage with me, so they decided that they would ignore it. But on our way back, the bridge collapsed under our carriage. It was a stormy night. Everyone was lost to the whirling river. Everyone but me.”

Erik felt his features soften. “I am sorry for you loss, my friend.”

Charles glanced up at him as if he had forgotten he was there. “It happened many years ago.” He took a deep breath and seemed to push the happening back into his mind. “I have made peace with their deaths. After that, I was mostly cared about by the servants here. Many of my distant relatives tried to take possession of my father’s fortune, but I could see their plans even before they were aware of them. It had been a tiresome childhood, trying to fend off these kinds of people and trying to control my power.”

“But you did not have anyone who could show you how, did you?”

Charles shook his head. “It was just me testing what I could do, how I could stop it. And it was mostly on the servants and then on my tutors. Then Raven came into my house and has stayed here ever since. She has been a much needed support. And then, later on, Hank. And now you.”

He mirrored Charles’ smile, and Charles picked up his fountain pen again. Erik took the book he brought and went to the settee to start reading it and help Charles finish faster. The problem was that Erik was still a bit tired even after sleeping for more than six hours on two consecutive nights, not to mention that with his ability unlocked, it felt as if it was in constant touch with any kind of metal around him. He felt like a muscle who did not know how to relax, so before he finished the first chapter, he fell asleep, book face down on his chest.

Unbeknownst to him, Charles felt the moment Erik’s mind stopped reading and since he, too, needed a break from staring at black and red ink on mostly yellow pages, he got up, took the neatly folded quilt from the armchair opposite Erik and covered the man’s sleeping body.

If he lingered and studied his relaxed features like he had upon first opening his eyes, then nobody was there to see that.

***

“You are angry,” Charles noted from the doorway to the back stables, the overcast sky doing nothing to lighten the hayless barn.

Logan threw a quick glance over his shoulder. He was impressed that Lehnsherr was nowhere in sight. Four days have passed since they arrived, three since Elf woke up and had his check up. Just as many since Logan managed to exchange a handful of words with him. 

But he was in total control of the situation. Elf only needed time to— do whatever he needed to do.

Fact was that whenever he caught sight of Charles, Lehnsherr was never far behind.

“Finally got rid of that shadow of yours?” he asked gruffly, returning to his motorcycle.

A soft huff as he approached Logan.

“He is taking a nap in the library before supper.”

“Read him a bedtime story, didja?”

“He read it himself.” There was definitely a smile in his voice. Logan didn’t bother to look up at his besotted friend. He’d probably end up saying something nasty, and as annoying as Charles could be sometimes, he didn’t deserve Logan’s sour mood. “I simply had some research to do and he kept me company. But that is not why I am here. I would like to talk to Kurt, but I haven’t seen him around. Whenever I bridge the distance between us, he manages to elude me again. I thought you might know where he is and why he seems to be avoiding me.”

Logan’s shoulders relaxed as he leaned forward to screw in a screw that was giving him grief.

“You’re a telepath. Knock on his door.”

“I already tried, but he refuses to let me in and I won’t push him.”

Logan grunts. “Not his babysitter.”

“But you are not strangers either.”

“Just because I kept an eye on him until he recovered doesn’t mean that now we’re joined at the hip. That’s you and Lehnsherr.”

He expected that jibe to rile him up, but Charles said nothing for a while.

“What happened between you two?”

“Nothing.” The key he was holding fell from his hands and he cursed under his breath. He turned his stink eye on Charles. “Actual, fucking nothing. End of story.”

Charles lifted an eyebrow. “So you are angry because he is not speaking to you.”

Logan didn’t answer. 

“Did you try to speak to him?”

Still no answer. Charles sighed.

“You know that one of you needs to make that first step if you are to get out of this stalemate.”

This time Logan turned a baleful eye on him. “And how do you think I should do that when I haven’t laid eyes on him for two days now?”

“He still uses the room next to yours. That is something.”

Logan turned to his vehicle, short, angry movements getting him nowhere with the job.

“Think about it,” Charles said before he left Logan alone.

He tried again to screw the little screws, but they kept falling from his fingers.

“It’s all I’m doing these days,” he muttered to himself, staring down at the five screws.

***

“Charles, did you find Logan?” Raven asked as Charles was making his way towards the back entrance of the main house.

“Yes, I did.” He kissed her temple before he nimbly went around her.

“And?” She was on his tail.

“He’s doing fine,” he said, walking backwards so that he could meet her gaze and offer a serene smile. “Exuding health.”

“Charles,” she began, “I thought you said you shall convince him to join us for supper.”

“I tried. It backfired,” he said with a large smile and she stopped in the middle of the hallway as he still continued to walk backwards.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

And he promptly bumped into someone— whose hands caught his ribs.

“Mr Lehnsherr,” he said softly, in surprise, before he smiled brilliantly again. “You look— rumpled.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I had something to tend to.”

“It would have been kind of you if you woke me up when you left. I am still feeling that unforgivable settee.”

Charles chuckled, and stepped back, not before noticing how Erik’s hands were slow in letting him go. “You were sleeping so soundly that I did not have the heart to wake you up.”

“It was not a restful sleep,” he grumped.

“Are you hungry? Supper is in a tad.”

There was a pause as Erik gazed down at Charles. A pause, in which Charles could not abstain from drinking in Erik’s less than presentable state, his hair mussed, a long line on the left side of his face, his tie ruffled. He was delectable.

“Famished,” Erik said, intimately.

Charles blinked, unable to parse through that word because it felt like it had more depth than it let on.

***

Logan stopped in front of the entrance towards the first floor, focused on the sounds around him. Charles, Raven, Lehnsherr, Kitty and Janos were eating breakfast a level below him, the clink of cutlery against fine china a dead giveaway. Not to mention the chatter. He didn’t need his fine hearing to pick up strands of conversation. Mostly about the mutants that were still comatose and those who woke up and would be leaving the following day with Janos. 

He should offer to go with him and make sure that the mutants got to their homes safe and sound, but he also didn’t feel like leaving Elf alone for such a long time. Logically, he knew that he was safe there with Charles and Lehnsherr and Raven and Kitty, but instinct was a powerful thing. And Logan had that in spades. So, no. He wasn’t going anywhere. Even if there seemed to be a wall between them. 

Ever since Elf had that nightmare the first night after he woke up, there had been something happening with him that Logan couldn’t figure out. And he had an inkling that Elf couldn’t either. But he was also bad at asking for help; and Logan was bad at talking about these things.

So they were at an impasse.

Or at least Logan felt like he was.

He knew that he wasn’t the best person to talk to about personal issues. But Logan had been there. Had _ fought _Elf, and even if he didn’t know how it was to have someone control your mind, he could— listen. Could sit there and offer a listening ear. If only Elf asked, he would drop everything and do that.

Their situation was such a mess.

Logan’s usually ordained mind and physical control felt like they were frying around the edges.

Elf wasn’t in his room and Logan hadn’t had his breakfast yet. A door clicked shut softly, and when he took a deeper inhale, he knew exactly who it was. He stepped up into the hallway and looked both ways.

True to his senses, Elf was just closing a door on the right side, five doors down from where Logan was standing.

His gaze met Logan’s and there was no way Logan’s primal instinct did not make him think of Elf as looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Elf.”

“Good evening, Mr Logan,” he said, pronouncing the words as if he just learned them.

Logan narrowed down his eyes. “After what we’ve been through, honorifics have no place.”

Elf opened his mouth, a half sound escaping, but then he closed it again.

“I believe that I should thank you for what you have done.” Logan lifted an eyebrow at the formality in his tone of voice. “I was told that you brought me here.”

“You and a dozen other mutants.”

He didn’t make any more eye contact. The distance between them was insufferable, but Logan was more worried that if he were to approach Elf he would flee.

“Even so. I thank you.”

“Why the formality, Elf?”

“I—” The skittish look he threw Logan had him recalculate his strategy and his words.

It didn’t sit well with him. The situation they were in and the fact that he even considered watering himself down for the benefit of another.

“How you doin’?” he asked instead.

“Good— I think.”

“What did the doctor say?”

“That I’m healthy. No permanent damage anywhere.”

Logan narrowed down his eyes once again. He still couldn’t understand what was so special about this mutant that his whole self stood to attention when he was present. He thought that this awareness of another stemmed from knowing about Elf’s past and what happened to him. He had always had a soft spot for strays whose life had treated them badly. But he seldom acted on it.

Maybe it was the proximity that did it.

Still, Elf seemed to have gone to great lengths to avoid Logan.

“You headin’ downstairs?”

“What for?”

“Breakfast.”

“Ah— no, I am not.” Again, he avoided Logan’s gaze. Why?

“Why?”

“I do not feel hunger.”

Unsummoned, the corners of his mouth twitched up in the shadow of a smile.

“Never?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You never feel hunger?”

He frowned, and Logan was struck by how much his face changed with each expression.

“That is untrue. Why do you ask me that?”

Logan just shook his head. They fell silent after that, a stalemate from which neither moved.

“Kitty told me that you have a sort of— motor?”

Surprise washed Logan’s face clean. “Motorcycle. I am still working on getting it to function.” Kurt nodded. “You’re free to come and see it, if you want.”

That was the best olive branch he could come up with even though he didn’t know what he needed the olive branch for since they had not fought. Another nod from Elf and Logan left him alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**.6.**

*** 

It took Kurt another two days to finish inspecting half of Mr Xavier’s manor. At least the front part. He was apprehensive to begin wandering the back one because that was where Mr Xavier and the other occupants of his manor usually could be found. The rooms there were more spacious and furnished for day to day life rather than sleeping or storage spaces. 

And he knew Mr Xavier was looking for him. He could have come visit Kurt’s room in the late evening when he could be found there, but strangely enough, he never did that. After that initial mental brush all those days ago and Kurt shying away in a decisively panicked way, Mr Xavier has left him alone. He was not sure what to do with that. Perhaps he had offended the master of the house?

But if that was true, how come he had not been tossed out on his arse?

Perhaps it was his perceived affiliation to Mr Logan? Kitty had told him when they met a second time that Mr Logan had carried him in his arms all the way up to his room and had taken care of him. And it was true. When he woke up he had been in an unfamiliar room and Mr Logan had been smoking a cigar, sat as he was on the large windowsill with the window cracked open just enough to let the smoke out.

He still remembered Mr Logan’s bare feet, the first thing he noticed before his gaze slowly made its way to his face, a pensive, relaxed expression that Kurt admired for a short while because Mr Logan had turned his head at that moment. He had smiled that restrained smile which Kurt was not sure what to make of.

A week had passed since then and Kurt woke up every morning to the weak creak in the floorboards in the other room, the almost silent shuffle and then the soft click of his door being shut. Only after he made sure that Mr Logan was well on his way wherever he went so early in the morning that Kurt got out of bed and began his daily routine.

But with all the ‘safe’ rooms already inspected, he was left with only two options: brave the others in his journey towards completely familiarising himself with the manor or try the outsides for once. Where he could cross paths with Mr Logan.

He made his way downstairs, keeping himself against the wall, ears twitching with every movement he could hear. There were muffled voices coming from under the stairs, pots and pans banging from the corridor extending to the left at the foot of the stairs, the large double door that looked like it could be the entrance and high up above it a row of small, round windows, some with a red square, others with a blue one, that were letting the dreary morning light into the parlour.

He was almost across the shiny marble floor, his feet bare relishing the coolness of it before footsteps fast approached him.

“Ah!” an unfamiliar voice drew in a soft gasp and Kurt could not muster the courage to turn around and look this person in the face. “Mr Szardos! Breakfast will be ready in a tad.”

Only when he drew himself to his full height did he realise that he had been crouching, trying to make himself appear smaller.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, his own voice strange to his ears, unsure, a bit raspy, unable to grasp the sounds those words required one emit.

“Will you be—”

He bolted through another corridor and opened the first door that came into his view. It took him out, to his surprise.

And then horror because he was _ out. _He plastered himself against the side of the house, breathing deeply in and out, his eyes taking in what looked like the stables, the gravel ground that formed a path towards them, two carriages parked under the awning, another stable or barn further to the left, and then the treeline. He could make out only bits of the simple fence delineating the perimetre because it was overtaken by the underbush. 

The snorts and neighing of horses inside the stable drew his attention, as the wind did, bending the tops of the trees every way it blew. 

With hesitant steps, he picked his way towards the horses, recalling that even though most often they were scared of him at first, his protector taught him how to soothe them, how to talk to them so they trusted him. He wanted to do that now. Talk to someone who wouldn’t be able to answer. Make such a simple, honest animal trust him, because humans and mutants could conceal their emotions. And Kurt was not adept at reading between the lines. He had trouble reading _ on _the lines.

And with the episode of his kidnapping, his fight before that, Mr _ Logan _ still fresh in his mind, he needed that sort of reassurance.

A wide aisle separated the boxes that hosted Mr Xavier’s horses on either side. Kurt counted ten before he could not distinguish where one started and the next began. He took an armful of hay from the wheelbarrow that was stationed to his left and slowly approached the first box.

A cream-white mare with faded brown ears and yellowing tail was eating hay, completely unaware of Kurt’s presence. He left her alone, moving on to the next one, but the horses on his right side must have seen him because they stomped the ground, neighing ferociously which called the attention of the other horses who, upon seeing him, began pacing around in their boxes as if Kurt was going to attack them.

He did the first thing that his memory told him, and that was speaking softly and in a calm fashion, infusing his voice with as much command as reassurance.

He clicked his tongue, lifting the hands full of hay towards the black stallion who initially raised the alarm. “Hey,” his tongue clicked, “it is okay. It is fine. Easy, my friend. I am not going to hurt you.” Then his eyes fell on the plaque to the side of the door where a name was inscribed. “Ce— rebro?” he turned his gaze on the spooked animal, pacing whichever way and alternating between neighing and snorting. Kurt stepped closer as slowly as possible. “Cerebro, hello. I am Kurt. And I have brought a peace offering.”

Even before Cerebro calmed down, the commotion behind him had already petered out. Good. He could work on making Cerebro trust him without being distracted by the other horses. With his eyes on Cerebro’s black ones, he pushed both hands with hay over the chest-high door and continued murmuring soothing words, making himself appear as friendly as possible. He could not change his appearance, but he hoped that the animal felt how his bones held no malicious intent.

Just as softly as Kurt was murmuring words of encouragement, Cerebro approached him, nose sniffing at the hay before taking a mouthful.

Kurt felt his face was too small to contain the smile that bloomed. One hand was quickly emptied and he dared try to caress his muzzle, but Cerebro neighed and backtracked so fast Kurt lost the last bit of hay inside Cerebro’s box and he stepped back, too.

A huff from behind made him turn at once, feeling as frightened as the horses had been. At the sight of Mr Logan his heart did not stop galloping in his chest, but increased its speed rather. The little smile Mr Logan kept tucked in the corners of his mouth was distracting enough that Kurt found himself at a loss for words.

“You’re moving too fast,” Mr Logan quipped, striding without hesitation to the box.

His muscled forearms were naked, hairy and peppered with bits of sawdust and hay. He had a pair of dark green overalls and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his elbows. Unbidden, a thought unfurled its soft wings in Kurt’s mind upon seeing the gruff and, a lady might say, unkempt look of his untrimmed beard. He wanted to card, stroke, _ scratch _ through it. Which was ridiculous because he’s never had such a thought about anyone. Not real. Perhaps a few characters from the unorthodox books his guardian had kept in her library. All of them coming from the Holywell Street because Mrs Szardos knew the proprietor of the shop a little ways down the half-moon sign with the pouty lips and distant, almost melancholic gaze that guarded the Half-Moon Passage.

She knew him rather well. Many have said _ too well. _

“What are you doing here?” Kurt found himself asking, blinking at how rude it came out.

But before he could rectify his _ faux pas _Mr Logan slanted his eyes at him after he clicked his tongue and kept his hand outstretched until Cerebro obediently approached. There was a corncob in it which Cerebro bit into without hesitation.

“Was preparing old Nelly for a trip,” he said, motioning with his head towards his left.

Kurt looked behind him, but could not discern where that was. “Trip?” Kurt could not help but ask. His attention returned on Mr Logan’s face, the older gentleman’s focus fully on Cerebro. He grunted, but did not offer further explanation.

An ugly sort of apprehension squeezed Kurt’s stomach. At this rate, he feared it would close for real, a knot of intestines. He swallowed and forced his voice to maintain a neutral, pleasant tone, his eyes studying Cerebro’s dark muzzle and the beautiful contrast it made with Mr Logan’s white hand.

“Will it be a long one?” he asked, and perhaps he infused a tad too much indifference into that question.

Mr Logan’s gaze held something smoldering and amused in it when it found Kurt again that he could not identify from the quick look he took. Crow feet were gathered around the corners of his eyes and Kurt was only struck by the thought that it made Mr Logan look handsomer than he already was. He wondered idly when he started to see Mr Xavier’s bodyguard in this light. If it was when Mr Logan cheated at the card game or when they fought to protect Mrs Lehnsherr. Or perhaps it had happened before that, when they first met— when Kurt eavesdropped.

There had been many instances which Kurt could point his long finger at and accuse, but he could not be sure of which one was guiltier.

“You’re welcome to join me,” Mr Logan offered, and it both held amusement, but Kurt saw the hopeful look Mr Logan tried to keep hidden behind the warmth in his gaze.

And then, like a mechanism clicking into place, Kurt’s forgotten upbringing came out with a flourish.

“Oh, no. I would not want to impose,” he said, turning his attention back on Cerebro. He _ wanted _to touch him, but he was afraid the horse might become spooked again. His fists were loosely clenched at his sides. “I am sure you have important business to attend to.”

A huffed laugh made him glance up at the man. “Yeah, sure. Chopping branches and dead trees for fire kindle. Important business, indeed.”

Kurt opened his mouth to perhaps apologise, even though he was more distracted than usual by Mr Logan’s expressive face, but was interrupted by the hand Mr Logan proffered between them. He blinked at it, then searched his eyes for clues as to what he wanted Kurt to do with it.

“You look like you want to touch ‘im, but are too afraid he might get spooked,” he explained. “Here, lemme help with that.”

He bit his lower lip, pondering upon that offer, before looking up at Cerebro, his calm gaze watching Kurt without any fear in it. That sealed Kurt’s decision. He gingerly placed his hand into Mr Logan’s, who grasped the back of it, his larger and meatier palm almost engulfing Kurt’s, guiding it towards Cerebro’s muzzle. But Kurt was too mesmerized by the contrast _ their _hands made to register at first the soft, almost ticklish pelt above Cerebro’s nose. 

At the same time, though, he was aware of how the rough palm felt covering his, how Mr Logan had not let go— and did not look like he would any time soon. It was like that that Kurt was reminded how sensitive he was to touch when he was relaxed and safe, how strong the sensation was when he was touched or he touched because he wanted to explore or because he sought or was offered comfort. That had not happened since his guardian’s death. No more head caresses, no more shoulder squeezes, no more soft, strong hugs.

Instinct kept telling him to return to his home, that Mrs Margali would be very cross with him if he missed supper. But the image of her lifeless body sailed back to the surface every time he thought she would be waiting for him. He still could not accept that she was really gone from his life, but it was easier to ignore the missing piece when he was dealing with being kidnapped and— forced to do things against his will.

He remembered, yes. It had been a fog, but the flashes returned to him at random and he had no idea what to make of them. Or how to process what he had done to Mr Logan.

The fine coat of fur covering his body was raised as hot and cold waves travelled underneath his skin, his hand trapped between two different sorts of warmth and textures. At once, his suit trousers and blue shirt felt constricting and tickled him every time he breathed. Then Mr Logan stepped closer and Kurt became aware of his own uneven breathing.

“You okay, Elf?” he murmured and Kurt’s heart beat a double tempo, his whole body feeling that voice all the way into the marrow of his bones.

How could this man behave as if nothing happened between them? How could he stomach touching Kurt when Kurt had hurt him so many times?

“Ye-yes,” he breathed out, gaze finding Cerebro’s and drawing comfort from it. “It has been a while.” And chanced a glance at Mr Logan.

_ Since, _his gaze seemed to ask Kurt.

_ Since someone touched me and I, in turn, touched someone, _Kurt’s eyes answered.

But Cerebro dislodged their hands as he went to finish his breakfast and ignored them. Kurt watched their hands closely, counting the seconds until Mr Logan would inevitably take his back. Ten seconds and it failed to happen. He looked up only to meet his steady gaze. Kurt could not see anything familiar in it. There was only a depth to those dark eyes which made him feel that if he ever fell into them, he would find no escape.

He was aware that Mr Logan was an intense man, and with his mutant abilities, Kurt gleaned a certain instinctual protectiveness and territoriality that could very well have been enhanced by his mutant side. He could not discern where he stood in Mr Logan’s circle of friends and family. If he was merely an acquaintance or if he considered Kurt someone he could trust.

He hoped they could become friends, if nothing else. Mr Logan _ was, _after all, out of Kurt’s league.

“I’ll be over there, preparing Nelly,” Mr Logan said, pointing with his thumb somewhere behind him. Kurt was unable to determine what kind of expression he was wearing, even though he watched Mr Logan closely. “Holler if you need anything.”

He looked in something akin to shock as Mr Logan made his way back to a box further down the aisle. There was an uncomfortable feeling making its home inside Kurt’s chest. He was not sure if the reason for this discomfort was the fact that somewhere deep down he expected Mr Logan to insist, to, perhaps, cheat again and drive Kurt into a corner where he either unwittingly agreed or was given no choice but to do that. Or something else.

He did not expect Mr Logan to leave him alone with the offer still hanging low and pregnant between them. It was up to him if he wanted to take it or keep to himself and continue doing what he wanted to do. But which course of action was the best? Which one would return him to the sense of calm from before?

Neither.

Not after what transpired between them.

If he went with Mr Logan, he was, at the very least, expected to make small talk, of which Kurt had no idea how to do nor if he was good at it. With Mrs Margali he had been comfortable in the knowledge that he would not be judged no matter how silly the thought he voiced sounded. Then with Kitty and later with Mrs Lehnsherr he had come close to that sort of easiness; cut short by the impromptu kidnapping.

And at the moment, Mr Logan who was— well, Mr Logan was Mr Logan. Rough on the outside, unapproachable, gruff and short-tempered. A man who spoke his mind no matter how unpalatable the words were. Those were the few things Kurt had gleaned from the short time they had been in each other’s company.

But if Kurt ignored the offer and continued with his exploration— he was more than sure that he would not be able to focus on anything, least of all enjoy it. Because his thoughts would, inevitably, stray back to Mr Logan.

So what was he to do?

Cerebro scared him by nuzzling the side of his face, his moist and plushy lips almost catching Kurt’s ear between them. He stepped back, a strangled noise caught in his throat. Cerebro snorted, then returned to lazily munch on his hay.

He frowned, unable to comprehend what the stallion meant with that gesture. But perhaps it had been something borne of instinct rather than anything rational. He forgot, rather often, that animals did not possess the kind of common sense humans and mutants did. At least some of them, that was.

His feet took him further down the rows of boxes, the horses less spooked, but still wary of him. Then he reached an open box, Mr Logan’s back turned to him as he worked on cleaning the soft brown mare’s box while she kept to the side where her hay and pasture grass was. She didn’t even snort the moment Kurt came into view.

“You can pet her,” Mr Logan’s gruff voice came and Kurt jolted. He thought he’d approached on silent feet. “She doesn’t spook easily.”

“How did you—”

Mr Logan threw him a grin and tapped the side of his nose with a gloved finger. Without even thinking, he sniffed his armpit and Mr Logan chuckled.

“No, you don’t stink,” he said, then his eyes grew more mischievous, “that bad.”

Kurt could not help but huff a laugh at that, too. Following Mr Logan’s earlier words, he approached the mare cautiously and when there wasn’t even a hitch in her breath, Kurt allowed himself to slowly stroke her mane and then her naked back. In no time, he grew bolder and ended up hugging her the best he could without disrupting her lazy eating.

“I believe I may have developed strong sentiments for this being,” Kurt said out of the blue, feeling the need to voice the emotions bubbling in his chest.

Mr Logan backtracked with the wheelbarrow out of the box, grinning at him.

“Careful, she’s a heartbreaker that one.”

Kurt smiled back in response, but did not relent his hug, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth, the sound of that strong heartbeat. It was only when he heard Mr Logan shuffle closer behind that he straightened up.

“Scoot over, Elf, need to put the harness on her.”

Kurt stepped back completely and let Mr Logan do his job. “I would like to come with you.”

Mr Logan did not look at him. “Plenty of space in the wagon,” he said, guiding Nelly out of her box.

Above the curve of her neck, Kurt saw Mr Logan’s smile, a small, almost secretive thing that mostly made the skin around his eyes gather.

That was how Kurt knew that he had made the better decision.

***

“It seemed Mr Howlett and Mr Szardos have cleared up the misunderstandings between them,” Erik remarked from where he was looking outside the window that faced the front of the manor, an open book in his hands.

“That is most wonderful news,” Charles said from his desk piled with books, half opened, half closed and sitting atop of each other in precarious stacks. “I have tried contacting Kurt telepathically, then physically, but I could not get through to him on either occasion. So I think it is best to leave him in Logan’s capable hands.”

Erik turned a disbelieving look towards his friend. Charles smiled his beatific smile.

“Do not start with this, you, too,” Charles admonished good-naturedly. “Logan is more than capable of taking care of someone.”

“You might be biased, my friend,” Erik teased subtly, trying not to let his smile take over his face. “Mr Howlett does not look like the kind of person who would be amenable to look after anybody but himself.”

_ “Au contraire, mon ami,” _he quipped, the smile creasing the corners of his eyes and voice warm and inviting. Why did Erik’s heart skip a beat? Was it the perfect French accent? The smooth ‘r’? The smile? Charles himself? “You might be the one who is biased here. Logan is a gruff person, I shall admit to that. But Logan is also the most caring person I have ever met.”

What was that feeling that unsettled matters underneath his ribs upon hearing those words? He could not identify the reason for the discomfort.

“I assure you,” Charles continued, “that Kurt is safe with Logan. And I do not mean only physically.”

“Very well, my friend,” Erik said, eyes falling back on the drawings of knights and the different colored capes they were wearing, before he closed the book with emphasis. “I shall defer to your knowledge of Mr Howlett.”

He moved towards Charles, intent on placing the book back on one pile, but he must not have paid attention enough, because his elbow destabilised one of the stacked books. It all happened in a split second: both Erik and Charles lunged forward to catch them before they fell, and one of Erik’s hands ended up atop Charles on top of the pile, while the other that were keeping it steady on the side had only Charles thumb overlap Erik’s little finger.

They both looked with bated breath at each other.

Charles’ fountain pen was the first to fall with a loud thud on his desk, followed by the tray and the teaspoons, the fine china clattering so loudly that Erik was sure some of it was cracked. He felt dismayed at that, apologetic for losing control over his own power, even though he had no idea where to start to remedy that.

“I apologise, my friend,” Charles said, breaking whatever spell had them both captivated by the other.

Erik released Charles’ slightly cold hand. He felt compelled to take them both in his and warm them up, but Charles was already separating the top half of the stack and making two of them to ensure it wouldn’t happen again.

“No need to apologise, Charles. I was careless.”

“No, I should have foreseen this and rearranged them so it would not happen.”

But then would Erik have gotten away with touching his friend’s hand, even for a second? No, the answer to that was a definite no. Erik did not mourn the incident; what he mourned was the loss of Charles’ hand. Maybe he needed to spend some time away from his friend. There were incontinent emotions pawing at his chest and he could not tell if he would be able to reign them in.

***

After lunch, and after Charles made his usual rounds to make sure that the residents at his manor were doing well, he returned to the drawing room prepared to read some more on the legends surrounding Atlantis, but upon entering, he realised that it would not happen.

“Mr Lehnsherr,” Charles greeted. Lunch sailed back to his mind when Alex Summers made quite a scene out of ceding his place at Charles’ left to Erik only for the rest of the occupants at the table to giggle as subtly as kids could— which meant none at all. Even Raven had given him her trademark smirk. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence here?”

It was surely the lit fire in the hearth nearby the two armchairs sitting in front of each other that made the glint in his eyes exalt the dark blue colour.

Erik motioned with his hand at the low wooden table between them where a chess board had all the pieces laid out.

“Black or white, my friend?”

Ah. The usual question, even though he knew the colour he preferred. Charles stared at Erik for a short while before he gently closed the door and took his place opposite Erik. They had played numerous games across the years, but ever since Erik’s business picked up, they have foregone chess entirely.

“White, as always,” he replied.

Erik smiled, and it was not his usual tight smile or socialite one or the teasing one, but something less guarded and rigid. 

“Your move, then.”

They played in silence for the better part of half an hour before they found themselves at a stalemate. Charles covered his mouth with his palm as he leaned forward, mind working through countless moves he could make and the countermoves Erik could use to block him.

“I was thinking,” Erik said out of nowhere. Charles was deep in concentration to give his words more than a small amount of his attention. “Perhaps I should start training with the others.”

“Mhm,” Charles hummed absentmindedly, feeling that he was getting close to a possible solution. 

“I could ask Mrs Darkholme to give me private lessons.”

“Mhm, pri— excuse me?” Charles leaned back, focusing on Erik at once. “Whyever would you ask Raven for private lessons?”

Erik lifted an eyebrow. “To help me better control my ability.”

“Oh.” He relaxed at once.

“My friend, are you feeling well?” he asked, leaning forward on his elbows atop his knees.

“Yes, quite well. I— well, I did not expect you to want to— but I should have seen this. Your powers developed much later than the others. You would feel out of sorts with it. Have there been any other incidents lately?”

Erik shook his head. “Not beyond the one this morning. But I am constantly aware of the metal around me. It feels as if I cannot fully relax.”

“Hm, that might pose a problem in the future.” He thought for a moment what the best course of action would be for that. “I would not presume to know what you are feeling right now, but I know that I felt as if I had no control over my mind at the time my ability manifested. Granted, I was a child, so I took to use it and learn how to at least partially control it fast enough. Not that I am fully in control of it now.” He smiled with no small amount of self-deprecation as he was reminded of the debacle at the ball.

“What say you, then,” Erik quipped and his gaze was calculating, dark, and inviting to Charles. “That we help each other out?”

“How do you mean?”

“You teach me how to control my ability enough so that I do not make every piece of metal in the room float at the whim of every jolt I feel, and I could offer myself as a subject on which you could test your shielding abilities.”

Charles blinked. “That is not a bad idea. Not at all.”

Erik smiled widely. “Then we have ourselves a deal. Your turn.”

  


***

Earlier that day, however, Logan was kept company by Elf on his periodic trips into the surrounding forest, which was in and of itself a surprise for Logan’s old heart.

“What’s nipping at your ankles, Elf?” he asked, as he guided Nelly down the gentle slope, Elf keeping pace on the other side of the mare.

He hadn’t held hope that Elf would want to spend time with him. After all, he still behaved like a skittish animal. Logan thought that the best way to go about that would be to give him time to get used to his surroundings and then try to approach him bit by bit. Build trust and all that jazz.

“Had another night terror?” Logan inquired further when Kurt didn’t reply.

“No.” He shook his head, keeping his gaze forward and one hand buried into Nelly’s dirty blonde mane.

Logan hadn’t heard any commotion since that first night, but that didn’t mean Elf was free of them. Not every night terror made one act even before he woke up. There were the nasty ones, those that left you paralyzed by fear, unable to move a muscle.

He studied the side of his face, wondering what his cheek would feel like if he were to touch it. Would it have the same soft, almost ticklish texture that the back of his hand had? Would it be even smoother, closer to being skin? Those were questions that Logan decided he’d not ponder on for too long. Elf was not three feet away from him, and instinct had a _ way _with Logan.

“Then?” he needled. If Elf was there of his own mind, then Logan might as well try to get him to talk more. Maybe even have a conversation. 

He wasn’t good at this thing and didn’t like going in a roundabout way about things. But he wanted to try a subtler approach with Elf. He might pack a punch enough to make Logan see stars behind his eyelids, but he also looked like a rough, direct approach might do more damage than good.

“Nothing much,” Elf said softly. “Where will you take the fire kindle from?”

Logan motioned with his chin at the meadow they were coming upon. “See those chopped trunks? Did them a month ago. There are more behind the bushes, but the dead ones to the right of them I’m interested in.”

“But it rained last night. Isn’t the wood too wet?”

Logan grunted as he pulled Nelly to a stop, the wagon positioned so it was close to the place where Logan would start chopping. “It is, but there’s no way around it. It’s gonna rain in a few hours again, so we better hurry. As long as we get the chopped wood back before it starts, we’re good. Then there’ll be time for it to dry in the barn, under cover.”

He came by Elf’s side.

“What can I do to help?” he asked and Logan felt the corner of his mouth lift in response.

“Keep talking, if you feel like it. Or just sit by Nelly’s side and keep her company.” _ Keep me company _was pushed back in his throat.

“Are you sure?” He looked like he was waiting for Logan to tell him he was pulling his leg.

Logan nodded and Kurt looked at Nelly who was already grazing the grass. He took a few steps, but then he stopped and turned to face Kurt. It startled Elf when he realised that Logan was mere steps away from him.

“I might not be the best person to talk to about worries and sentimental stuff,” he said, gruff as always, yet feeling an odd sense of earnestness, as if he was twenty again and trying to be something he wasn’t around his crush. “But I’m willing to listen.”

Kurt stared at him, lips slightly ajar and Logan found it hard to not glance down at them and imagine— 

He left only when Kurt nodded slowly. 

He was incredibly bad at this stuff. It had always been easy to find a lay, man or woman, human or mutant. Most people made advances on him before he could even think about finding someone, so he only needed to accept. Even at that very moment, if he went to the nearest town he’d find someone who’d jump straight in the hay with him. 

Getting laid had never been a problem for Logan.

Forming a lasting connection with someone— that was where issues arose.

From the start, Logan was not an easy person to live with. He was gruff and had a protective streak a mile long, but he could also be cold and broody when he didn’t want to share things with anyone. Not to mention that he preferred to deal with his own problems instead of asking for help or a second opinion.

He was hard to love.

Yet, even knowing all of that, he couldn’t find the reason why he felt the need to get close to this mutant. He thought that perhaps he just wanted a more available lay, but that hadn’t been it. Because he looked at Elf and the only thoughts circling impatiently in his mind were ‘protect him’ and ‘cuddle him until he pushes you away’. How did those fit into his usual quick lay?

They didn’t.

Because even if he almost always went for petite people, the ones that seemed to play the innocent card well enough for Logan to see the coyness in their seductive eyes, he was hard pressed to put Kurt anywhere near that category. 

The air surrounding Kurt made Logan pause. Made him reconsider jumping first and asking questions later (or never). Kurt, with his blue fur, and near luminous yellow eyes, the tail that sometimes indicated his mood (the same tail that swept Logan’s feet from under him), and the foreign accent still dragging in his English even though he was careful not to let it slip too much.

He wanted to unravel this mutant and see what he would uncover.

“I remember the fight,” Kurt said.

Logan didn’t pause as he let the hatchet plunge into the dead tree’s bark. He side-glanced Elf who was now standing a few paces to Logan’s left, under the cover of the low-hanging branches. Their gazes didn’t meet, although Logan searched for his.

“I didn’t at first,” he continued, “but as days wore on, it came back to me. Bits and pieces.” He paused and Logan tore the branches away from the trunk and threw them on the growing pile nearby. “I hurt you,” he said softly and when Logan turned his head to fully look at him, Kurt kept his arms crossed on his chest and his gaze somewhere on the ground.

“You didn’t,” Logan said, breathing deeply as he searched Kurt’s face.

“I know I did,” Kurt pressed, stepping closer slowly. “I remember.” A frown etched itself between his eyebrows. “You even bled. I remember.”

Logan waited for a few precious moments. “It doesn’t matter,” he said slowly. “I healed.”

Then Kurt’s gaze found Logan’s, anger swimming in those strangely bright eyes. “It does to me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know, Elf,” he said, feeling like a hawk as he searched Kurt’s face. “Water under the bridge.”

“Why are you so calm about this?” Kurt snapped, taking Logan by surprise. His gaze seemed to stock a fire inside them. “I _ hurt you, _why do you act as if it’s normal, as if it is a daily occurence?”

“You weren’t aware of what you were doing,” Logan said simply, trying to calm the storm in Elf’s eyes. “I can’t blame you for something you had no control over.”

Kurt exhaled angrily and half turned towards the pile of branches, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. On impulse, the same one that Logan tried to keep under control, he stepped closer to Elf not expecting him to step back, startled. Logan’s hand, already halfway towards taking hold of his fell limply at his side. A myriad of emotions passed over Kurt’s face from surprise to worry to apology to guilt.

“What are you afraid of?” Logan asked, but they both knew the answer to that. “You can’t hurt me, Elf,” he tried again, hoping he could bridge that distance between them that was threatening to become a gaping maw.

A glint sneaked in Kurt’s gaze, and he swayed slightly forward as if he wanted to take a step closer to Logan, but reconsidered at the last moment. “No matter what I do to you?”

Oddly enough, Logan felt his heart speed up at that. “Physically, I meant.”

The meaning of that simple answer hung heavy and full between them as Kurt stared at Logan wide-eyed. Logan waited, and waited, gaze taking in Kurt’s sharp features, only slightly smoothed by the midnight blue of his fur. 

“I do not… trust my mind,” he said softly, and if Logan’s hearing wasn’t as fine as it was, he’d have missed that.

“Y’know you can talk to Charles about that, right?”

Kurt pressed his lips together. “I know.”

“But?”

“I— I do not believe I could let Mr Xavier go into my mind.”

Logan fell quiet, seeing Elf’s point. “Still, he’s the only one who could help you with that. If I could, I’d do it.”

That last part had the desired effect: Elf looked up at him.

“I apologise,” he said, and Logan’s eyes snapped up to meet his gaze from watching Kurt’s lips form those words.

“There’s—”

Kurt stepped closer at once, eyes boring into Logan’s with a determination Logan hadn’t seen on Elf’s face until that moment. 

“I want to—” Kurt swallowed, then set his features in stone. “I _ need _to do this. Please.”

Logan could only nod slowly, accepting the apology even if he still didn’t feel wronged in the slightest by Kurt. He was mesmerized by how close Elf’s face was, the almost non-existent distance between their bodies. He fought tooth and nail against that instinct that compelled him to embrace Elf and never let him go. They were at a very fragile snag in their relationship, he could feel that. One wrong step and Logan feared — yes, _ feared _— that what they had could be damaged irredeemably. 

But he wanted to touch. By _ God _did he want to! 

Feel Elf’s body pressed against his, breathe him in, settle that instinct once and for all. It pained Logan to have him this close and not be able to do any of the things he had in mind that drove him crazy with longing. And he hadn’t touched Elf in any other capacity than carrying him up the stairs the night he brought him to the manor. He still remembered how light he had been in his arms, how he _ weighed nothing _to Logan. That alone added a lot to how he felt about the mutant. 

“I should have fought harder,” Kurt said softly, gaze somewhere around Logan’s left cheek.

His hands made an aborted motion, then clenched and settled back at his sides. He must resist. A little bit more. A little bit more and— 

Then what?

He had no idea. But he wanted. He _ wanted. _

“Whatever it is you think you’ve wronged me,” Logan said, a rumble and a half, which pulled Kurt’s incandescent gaze to meet Logan’s. They held the eye contact and Logan felt slightly better for it. If he could topple into Elf’s eyes and never wade back to the surface, he would. “You didn’t. I don’t blame you for anything that happened at Shaw’s castle.”

A quick upturn of lips, there and gone again, was all that Kurt offered Logan before he stepped back and Logan was compelled to chase after him, to catch his wrist and pull him into his arms. The need to do that was excruciating. And painful. He had to breathe deeply in to relax the knot in his chest.

“I will help you carry the branches to the wagon,” Kurt said, already turned towards the pile.

Logan only grunted, a bit miffed with himself for exerting so much self-control, for not giving in and listening to that little selfish voice in the back of his head.

He wanted, more than anything, to stand there and pull out into the open everything Elf was not saying, everything he kept hidden or at bay. He wanted to have Elf laid bare before him. He wanted Kurt raw and open. He wanted the bad and the good and the nasty and the cuddly and the vulnerable and the hard. And he wanted all of it for Logan to take and care and love.

Love.

That was impossible.

His hatchett plunged into the biggest branch, cutting it clean.

Did he still have room for love? Was he not a creature of one night fumbles? Did he know how to function in something that smelled like home and everlasting and life-long?

Home. What a thought!

Kurt did not smell like home to Logan. 

He smelled like vulnerability and lost and stray smelled. Not home. 

***

Kurt felt better after helping Mr Logan load the chopped wood and the branches that would become kindling for fire. He also helped unload them when they came back just as the rain pelted down for ten minutes and then stopped. They worked in silence and Kurt found he enjoyed sharing space with Logan. After the conversation in the woods, which Kurt started, Mr Logan left him alone with his own thoughts. 

The realisation came to him as he dusted off his palms and then clothes while watching Mr Logan’s back, the top half of the overalls covering his lower half as he had found the straps constricting. Mr Logan never asked for more than Kurt wanted to give. He never demanded Kurt entertain him with this or that story. He never even _ looked _at Kurt in that way that meant that he expected Kurt to fill in the silence in some way.

He acted normal around Kurt. He wasn’t afraid to meet his gaze or even let his eyes wander, once in a while, never in a judging manner. He was not able to discern in what manner Mr Logan looked at him. And he was not sure what to do with all of that. That day had been the first they spent together without anyone else interfering. And Kurt had found a lot about the man even — rather _ especially _— through his silences. 

It was easy being around Mr Logan. It put Kurt at ease and let him relax.

He found he had come to trust Mr Logan with himself. Being lost in his thoughts and forgetting his surroundings had not happened to him around other people, humans or mutants, in a very long time.

It was only later that night that the thoughts kept returning to him and making him toss and turn in his too big bed until he decided to risk it. He opened the door joining his and Mr Logan’s rooms hesitantly. The complete silence told Kurt that Mr Logan was awake, even though his back was turned away from door. There was a stillness to his body in the dark that made Kurt feel as if he was ready to jump into action at the first wrong exhale. 

He almost turned back to his own room, berating himself for how foolish he was, barging into another man’s private space, but Mr Logan turned at that moment and met his gaze.

“Elf.”

“Sorry.” The jitters were stronger than him. “I didn’t mean to wake you—”

“Was awake already,” he said gruffly. “Could hear you toss and turn.”

“Sorry.”

“What’s bugging you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Can’t fall asleep?” He nodded and Mr Logan went to open the window a crack before he took out a cigar and lit it. “Sit wherever you want,” he said, as he returned on his side of the bed, leaning back on two pillows.

Where he wanted was the bed because sitting across the room on the cold chair was the same as sitting alone in his own room, so he gingerly sat on the empty side of the bed, copying Mr Logan’s casual pose, legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed on his chest.

“Want to talk ‘bout it?” Mr Logan broke the silence and Kurt wiggled further down on the bed.

“Not sure what to talk about, Mr Logan.”

“Start with dropping the mister and then continue with what’s bothering you.”

Kurt blinked up at him. “I could not do that, Mr Logan.”

“You sure could. It sounds wrong to call me that. Just Logan’s fine. We’re not strangers anymore.”

His mouth opened, words poised to take flight, but he hesitated, afraid of the answer. Still, he trudged on. “What are we, then?”

Mr Logan — or _ Logan _— puffed out a long plume of smoke. The smell was strong to Kurt’s nose, even if it wasn’t as sensible to smell as Mr Logan’s was. He wondered how he could stand it.

“Whatever you want us to be,” Mr Logan said.

“That is not an answer.”

Mr Logan smirked. Kurt could see the little upturn at the corner of his lips. “What do you want us to be?”

Kurt pushed himself up against the headboard. “Why am I required to name what we have? You had been the one who had begun by stating we are not strangers. So, what are we then if you do not see us as strangers?”

Mr Logan drew in the smoke, his cheeks hollowing slightly and the red-orange glow of the other end crackled softly as it ate at the cigar.

“Friends, at the very least,” Mr Logan stated, then followed a reticent pause. “More if you want to.”

That left Kurt speechless, gaping like a fish on the shore. He glanced at his toes, naked and almost black, then around the room at the furniture that was definitely not Mr Logan’s taste or doing. He was a man of simple needs, so that many pieces of furniture and decorative nick-knacks were not something Mr Logan would put in a room given the choice. 

That knowledge alone had the jitters return with a vengeance, demand Kurt jump out of bed and pace around the room to expel them. Instead, he played with the creases in his nightshirt, worrying the edges between his thumb and index finger.

“I unsettled you,” Mr Logan murmured, a tinge of annoyance with himself towards the end, “Didn’t mean to.”

“No,” Kurt jumped, half turning towards him. “No. You— you did, unsettle me, but it’s not something you should apologise for. Rather, I am relieved that you consider us friends.”

Mr Logan lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t?”

Kurt opened his mouth, hesitated. “I was afraid to.”

“Why’s that?”

He pressed his lips, unsure if he should continue being honest or just do the noble thing and divert. 

“It is of no importance now,” he said, choosing the easiest way out. He didn’t meet Mr Logan’s gaze. 

“I’d say it is.”

“As long as we both know where we stand, I believe past thoughts and impressions would not have a place in the present.”

If anything, that just made Mr Logan look at him more intently when Kurt sneaked a glance.

“I think you’re trying to redirect my attention,” Mr Logan said, amused, “but you’re only making me more curious. So what is it, Elf? What kind of past thoughts and impression did you have about me?”

Kurt glanced up again, taking in the crow feet around the corners of Mr Logan’s eyes, but also— a bit of worry in the corner of his lips.

“I— could I be honest with you and not risk your displeasure?”

Mr Logan motioned with his hand. “Be my guest.”

He pressed his lips once again, eyes on his toes rather than braving Mr Logan’s steady gaze.

“I saw you, the first time we met, as being very gruff and— rough. Si—similar to the assailants.” He chanced a quick glance to his side, but he couldn’t distinguish the expression on his face. “It was the very first impression. I apologise. Later on, I realised that that had not been true. That you were different from those— those murderers.”

His body tensed, feeling as if that truth, those thoughts should have stayed hidden and even forgotten in the depths of his soul.

“And later on?” Mr Logan inquired, betraying nothing of what he was feeling.

“Later— later on you infuriated me.” When Kurt looked, Mr Logan had a cheeky smile on his lips. “Yes, you did.” He couldn’t help smiling a bit at that. “You cheated at my own game. Such discourteous behaviour from a gentleman!”

Mr Logan snorted. “‘M not a gentleman. That’s Chuck and Lehnsherr. ‘M just a help around the manor, sometimes a bodyguard or teacher.”

“Yet, you’ve proven to be so much more.” Kurt fell silent for a short while, recalling the fight at Mrs Lehnsherr’s house, the kidnapping, watching Mr Logan try to rescue Kurt from the net, but being assaulted by flashes and guns. “You tried to save me. That’s when everything I knew about you changed. You would have fought everyone on that vehicle just to save one mutant. One scared, socially awkward mutant who mostly avoided you.”

“They were gonna experiment on you. Like hell I was gonna let them do that.”

Kurt smiled at the hem of his nightgown. “You and I— we come from different worlds, different backgrounds.”

“So you don’t want us to be friends?”

He felt the undercurrent there, of worry and hurt, the first of its kind and Kurt thought it was odd that he could pick up on it. As if now that they kept talking, Kurt was unraveling more of the mystery that Mr Logan was.

“On the contrary.” Kurt was fast to assure, yet he still did not dare touch Mr Logan. “I find you are in a totally different league than my own. Unattainable.”

Mr Logan huffed and when Kurt looked up, the amusement was gathered mostly around his eyes. “You do realise that if anyone’s unattainable here it’s you, right?”

“I have nothing to my name. I am just Kurt Szardos right now.”

“That name has weight in this society.”

But Kurt shook his head with a sad smile. “I will return to my previous surname, Wagner. A name that has no power here or back in my country. Not anymore.” He inhaled deeply and sat back on the pillows before releasing the held breath. “But I would still like us to be friends. If you still want after what I said. That would put you as my fourth friend, Mr Logan,” he said with a smile.

Mr Logan narrowed his eyes, extinguishing his cigar in the ashtray on his bedside table. “Too much information, Elf. Could’ve left out how far along the list of your friends I am. Also, drop the mister. I mean it.”

Kurt worried his lips, warring with himself. “I apologise, did not mean to offend you— Logan.”

A half smile crested Logan’s lips as he turned towards Kurt, his attention completely on him.

“Good. I don’t share.”

Kurt frowned. “Strange. I was led to believe that in English society you do not feel so strongly about how many other friends one’s friend has.”

But Logan kept the smile on and offered no answer or explanation to that. 

“So what was bothering you?” he asked again.

“I am not sure,” Kurt said quietly. “Everything? Nothing? I do not know what is happening to me.”

“Sounds like puberty.”

Kurt snorted and when he looked up at Logan, he was smirking at him. He found himself strangely comforted by the fact that Logan’s attention was solely on him. Not that there was much else to look around the room, but he had barged in on the man’s private space. He could be tired and want nothing more than to sleep. But Logan did not give off that kind of feeling. So Kurt did not question it.

“I’m twenty-three of age,” Kurt said, a bit miffed. “I would reckon I am past that stage.”

“Good. Wouldn’t have been able to help with that,” he said, settling more comfortably on his pillows. The duvet sat rucked under his ankles. “Night terrors?”

Kurt huffed, relaxing into his skin and the bed, tipping his head back against the headboard and closing his eyes. The air between them finally settled and Kurt could let the apprehension go. “I only had _ one _night terror since I came here. That is hardly reason to believe that it happens every night.”

“So what do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing? Perhaps I just want to not feel alone for a bit.”

And wasn’t that the whole, naked truth? He bit his lower lip and made himself a ball on the bed above the covers. The rooms were chill at night and even with his protective short fur he still felt the low temperature. Logan fell silent after that and Kurt was half-lulled to sleep by Logan’s breathing, the only other loud sound in the room beside Kurt’s beating heart. Then he shifted and felt the duvet being pulled from under him. When he opened his eyes, Logan was almost above his head.

“Lift up. ‘M gonna cover us,” he rumbled and Kurt did as he was told without a word.

He settled with his face towards Kurt, and Kurt was wide awake and unable to stop himself from staring openly at Logan face. 

“How can you sleep after consuming a cigar?”

Logan grinned. “I didn’t eat it, Elf.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Easy. I close my eyes and sleep.”

“That’s not true. You can’t fall asleep that fast.”

“I can,” Logan said, low and intimate.

“Prove it.”

Silence.

“Logan?”

No response. Deep, measured breaths.

“Did you just fell asleep?” He actually poked Logan’s shoulder, retreating his hand fast in case the man thought about catching it, but he didn’t move from the position he was in.

With a sigh, Kurt propped himself on an elbow and pulled his pillow closer to Logan’s, then settled in the middle of the bed, his back so close to Logan’s that he could feel the warmth radiating from the older man, unaware of the fact that Logan was very much awake and watching him with covetous eyes resettle himself. 

The morning found Kurt enveloped in Logan’s arms, his own nose pushed into the man’s throat, hands clinging to the front of his shirt. They didn’t find it awkward when they became aware of their entanglement, because there was nothing awkward in the knowledge that they were in the company of someone they trusted. 

From that morning on, the shift in their relationship provided Kurt with much needed moral and physical — especially physical — comfort which in turn made Kurt be more open with his affections and mind.


	7. Chapter 7

**.7.**

***

Late during the following morning, Charles was seated in his armchair in the drawing room, siphoning the warmth of the crackling fire as he read the letters that Janos had brought from London, one by one. There were three letters that Edie had sent: two were addressed to Kitty and Erik, and one addressed to him. That was the one he was currently reading, sipping every once in a while from his cup of tea because next atop the other three, awaiting his perusal, sat one which had the royal stamp on it.

Charles Francis Xavier was enjoying the rare sunny day filtering in through the tall windows when in sauntered none other than Erik in— Charles almost spilled his tea. The fine china certainly did clatter loudly against the saucer as Charles hurried to place it safely there.

“Mr Lehnsherr, are you quite all right?”

“Never been better, Charles,” he said, an imperious undertone to his voice as he traipsed around the thick Persian rug, going for the pitcher of wine to pour himself half a glass.

Charles had sudden flashbacks to the time they were in the space between their own minds, fighting dark Jean.

“Where— how did you—” No matter how impeccably Charles had been raised by private tutors and then by self-mentoring, he could not summon the words necessary to describe what he was seeing.

“Oh, my cloak?” He fluttered a hand as he took a big gulp of his stemless glass, Charles unable to not take in the ankle long, deep magenta— material. Although in the shade it looked almost royal purple. “I made it myself.” 

Charles might not be breathing in sufficient air to have it reach his brain, but he would perhaps admit on pain of death that Erik sounded— well, proud of his accomplishment.

“How, pray tell?” And more importantly, _ when did he even have that time? _ Not to bring misfortune on his own doorstep, but they had been spending tremendous time in each other’s company.

He fluttered his hand again as he migrated towards the window to bask in the sunlight that was softly pouring in, positioning his body in such a way as to make Charles glance briefly at the open door to ascertain that no painter was going to saunter in with an easel and a canvas to immortalise this ridiculous man. 

“From some old materials I have found in the wardrobe in my quarters.”

“Those—” he _ squeaked _ like a mad woman prey to a fit of undisciplined giggles. Really, Charles needed to become better at controlling himself. The hand in which he kept the saucer was doing a poor job at keeping from shaking. “Those are the summer curtains,” he managed to say it all in one rush.

“Oh,” Erik said, the word more of a sound caught in an exhale. Charles could not look at him at the moment. “I did not know.”

“It is—” 

Oh, for crying out loud! He placed the saucer with the tea cup on the table because the soft clattering of fine china was becoming insolent already. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look _ up _into Erik’s eyes and utterly ignore what existed below his chin. 

“It is of no great importance.” Erik was his _ friend, _ and if his friend decided that he wanted to— well, to try advancing the fashion of the time, then Charles _ would _support him in his endeavour. “Raven had suggested that we should change them into something less— more— light in colour.” He paused, studying Erik’s features. “Might I ask what brought on this change in your attire?”

Charles could not fathom if there would ever be another man in his lifetime or the next ones that could tip their chin up just the slightest bit and look equally charming and unattainable.

“Well, I thought that since I have developed these abilities, it would be the natural course of action to create an attire that could match that.”

“You want everybody to recognise you whenever you pass by?”

Erik paused, considering that. “No. Not really.” He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Nevertheless, this is a test run.” With that he turned — rather dramatically, if one were to ask Charles — and left the drawing room, his cloak billowing about him in shades of deep magenta.

“Dear Lord,” Charles muttered to himself as he took his cup of tea and sipped.

Yes, Erik looked dramatic and incredibly pompous with that cloak on, but— Charles had always had a weakness for such personalities, had he not? His sentiments for Erik did not help keep his wits about him whenever he was in Erik’s presence and Charles did not have something that was not centred around Erik to focus on.

He sipped more tea to calm his nerves.

***

The few books and essays that have been written on the subject of human evolution were contradicting each other in regards to _ how _one became a special. Some said you were born that way, others firmly believed that somebody made humans breach the barrier between normal and abnormal. And Erik found one written by an anonymous person who speculated that it might have to do with the evolution of humans, which was as far as one could get away from the religious beliefs. Because that implied that man had not been created in the image of God, but rather— evolved. From what, no scientific mind seemed to venture towards those murky waters.

But that anonymous book kept Erik wondering in the quiet moments of the night before falling asleep, and sometimes during the day when he encountered a gifted.

He was seated at the Davenport desk pushed near the tall windows of the leisure room. The room was twice as big as the drawing room and had two hearths that were currently stocking a lively fire to push the chill of the cold day away. Mr Szardos — or rather Mr Wagner as he made the request to be called the previous night during supper when he and Mr Howlett joined them for the first time — was seated with Charles at the Baby Grand as Charles was trying to help Mr Wagner focus and also create his own mental shields.

He was using Chopin’s Polonaise no. 6 op. 53 in A flat Major, which seemed to be Mr Wagner’s favourite from the music sheets Charles had, his long fingers flying over the keys when the song required it.

Somewhere behind Erik, on the Persian rug moved to act as a delimiting mat, Mr Howlett and Mrs Darkholme were sparring to show Kitty more advanced techniques that required a great deal of focus, too. Erik tried protesting, but Kitty had always matched his stubbornness, and, in certain situations, even outmatched it, so he let her be.

What had most of his focus, even if Charles’ murmurs of ‘you could use that part of the melody, just imagine it wrapped around your mind, yes, like that, now make it louder’ filtered through, was the letter his mother had sent. Kitty’s sat unbreached to the side. 

His business was going well, it seemed. Rather, if the numbers that his mother had laid on the fine paper were to be trusted, they had risen by a percentage or two. So his mother and Emma could handle themselves while he was away. That actually invited a number of planned trips to make their nest on the edges of his mind. It would undoubtedly allow him certain liberty to travel more.

Perhaps he could convince Charles to accompany him and visit Italy and Spain. Maybe even France and Prussia, if they felt inclined. He closed his eyes and willed the maudlin thought away. What reason could he offer Charles other than Erik’s selfish desire to escape the dreary English weather for more— tropical ones. And to visit them with Charles in particular.

He returned to his mother’s letter. Best he left such complicated thoughts for another time.

“Yes, Kurt, that is good, your defences are getting stronger and stronger. Good. Now I shall increase my mental press. Do not panic, just focus on keeping your song wrapped around your mind. If it gets too much try increasing the volume. I will tell you how it feels so you know.”

Erik nodded absentmindedly even if he was not the one Charles was addressing. He and Charles had started to exercise their own powers with each other over the past few days. He always got a giddy rush of— anticipation or apprehension whenever Charles prodded at his mental defences. How alive and intoxicating his friend looked like when Erik bested him at his own mental game, and how pleased he was when he could block Erik’s thoughts, no matter how loud or insistent they were and continue reading his book. That pleased little smile, just an upturn of lips that Erik had memorised with the manic inner fervour of a mad painter.

But that was competing with the feeling of utter joy that Charles couldn’t help but suffuse his mind when Erik allowed him in to help him amplify his magnetism or simply sit at the back of Erik’s mind and enjoy the feeling of his power coursing through him.

They always gravitated closer — too close — to each other at such moments, as if there was nothing in that world that could keep them separated.

Even at that moment, Charles entirely focused on Kurt, Erik could feel his phantom touch against his mind, how even though Charles was busy doing something else, he couldn’t seem to be able to completely shield himself from Erik. Or at the very least keep himself from being in constant contact with Erik’s mind. Even sometimes during the night Erik would wake slowly from a dreamless dream to the comforting touch as if a cat had come and snuggled his head.

The only reason Erik hadn’t told Charles about that was because he found it oddly endearing and comforting to know that with all the control his friend had gained over his own ability, he still could not help himself but reach out to Erik. But perhaps Erik’s mind was the kind of mind that Charles found easy to stay latched to? Perhaps it was simply something convenient for him and it had nothing to do with Erik being — as preposterous as it sounded — someone special in his friend’s hear— mind.

He frowned at the second page of the letter. He read the last paragraph again, then moved up to the previous one, and the one before it. When had numbers and client names changed to Charles?

Yet, his eyes pored over the last paragraph again and again, trying to decipher what she meant by that.

_ That boy’s affections surmount the highest peaks mankind has discovered and have a depth that even you, my son, would not be able to see the bottom of, unless you open yourself and meet him at the same level. _

He looked over at Charles who was frowning slightly in concentration as Mr Wagner continued his song, a certain tenseness in his back and arms. He looked at his friend as if he could unravel the mystery of his mother’s words. Nothing illuminated his befuddled mind, so he sighed and took his fountain pen to start composing his letter.

He promptly dropped it when the melody came to a sudden and deafening halt. A hush fell over the room as Mr Wagner was breathing hard and staring back at a shocked Charles as if they both saw a horror so grand and abhorrent that they could do nothing else but stare at each other in abject speechlessness.

Mr Howlett was the first to abandon his training session and move on swift shoeless feet at Mr Wagner’s side. Erik was right behind him, cloak billowing at his back, but stopped himself from touching Charles, even though he hovered nearby in anxious anticipation. The feather-touch against his mind was conspicuously absent, as if Charles had pulled his ability so far down that there wasn’t even a leak of it getting out.

“What happened?” Mr Howlett demanded, his dark gaze darting from Charles to the crown of dark hair that he was pressing against his chest in a protective half-embrace.

Erik despised Mr Howlett on sight at that very moment, and the feeling clashed so horrendously with his worry for Charles that he was inept for a long time, unable to either move or speak.

“Charles?” Mrs Darkholme’s worried voice travelled by him as she came to his side, both palms on his shoulders, reassuring.

Why wasn’t he the one to do that? Why was he staring at Charles’ pale face instead of offering the comfort his friend clearly needed?

“I— I am not sure,” Charles’s feeble voice came. Mr Howlett was shushing Mr Wagner and Erik glanced in their direction only to see Mr Wagner cling to his shirt, fists shaking. “Kurt, did you see it, too?”

It took a bit, but Mr Wagner relaxed his fists and shoulders and nodded before he pushed away from Mr Howlett, although the man did not let him go, his palms changing position to his shoulders.

“Would either of you two care to explain what has happened?” Mrs Darkholme asked.

“I was helping Kurt find the perfect shield against telepathic intrusions,” Charles began to explain, more sure of himself and less like he had seen a phantom. “And while he was working on it guided by my voice, an— image of some kind broke through his defences and sort of— shrieked at us. If images can shriek. We both saw pieces of the past. No doubt remnants from the entity that Jean had inside her mind.”

“Past?” Erik’s tongue untied and Charles looked at him for the first time.

He felt the tentative mental touch from his friend and Erik couldn’t help mentally projecting two hands that clasped Charles’ and drew him in, not unlike one would do with one’s dance partner.

Charles’ eyes widened minutely, possibly not expecting Erik to be so rough and agog, but he nodded. “Our past. Where we came from. What we supposed was Atlantis, it was actually Genosha. Atlantis is the name humans gave to that island.”

“And we know how to get there.” Mr Wagner looked at Erik, then behind at Mr Howlett whose gaze never left his crown of hair.

***

Tea was served to calm the agitation that slowly seeped into everybody’s bones in the wake of such news. Charles was deep in thought, staring unseeing at the contents of his cup as he replayed the flashes of images. Some presented a lush island with people minding their own business, tending to the crops with machinery the likes of which Charles had never seen, kids running around. _ Mutant _kids of different physical appearance and abilities. The whole thing was saturated in harmony and the idyllic life that the present mutants could only find in their dreams.

But to those sunny images flashes of ruins, fire and a thunderstorm juxtaposed, the horror of bodies strewn across the ruined city. Charles stood up from his armchair and approached the closest hearth. He fed two more logs into the fire and waited for its warmth to seep into his body.

He felt Erik’s worry before he heard it in his voice as he came to stand at his side.

“Charles, are you well?”

“A tad shaken, my friend, but otherwise quite well,” he replied, staring at the wild dance of the flames.

Erik’s hesitation, palpable even without the help of his telepathy, had him look up.

“Are you quite sure?” Erik pressed. “I can still feel you are not quite there.”

Charles smiled, but his attention was pulled back towards Kitty who was subtly dragging Kurt to the side to talk to him in confidence as Raven took to the piano to play a jolly song to dispel the tension in the room. His eyes caught onto Logan, immediately, as his friend was watching Kurt with the kind of intensity that would make even the most oblivious person go _ hmm. _

_ What is it, my friend? _He sent at once, feeling Logan’s agitated mind which allowed Charles a small opening into Logan’s otherwise impenetrable defences.

All he got from him were disparate words of _ mine _ and _ safe _ and _ home _before he snapped out of it when Kurt called his name, and Charles was unceremoniously locked outside.

“Charles?” Erik’s voice sounded as if it was not the first time he was calling him. He smiled his warmest smile at his friend who blinked at him in confusion and— perhaps a bit of longing? He was quite shaken if he began seeing things that were untrue. 

“My friend, I propose a riding day out,” he said out of the blue. “Would you like to accompany me? I believe that an hour or two of fresh air might do us more good than we think.”

Erik looked taken aback, but he nodded slowly. “Make sure you wear your thickest scarf. The wind picked up and you know if you leave your neck uncovered you will catch your death.”

Charles stared at his friend, unable to parse through all of that. Erik’s intense gaze did not change one bit as he waited for Charles to answer.

“Of course,” he said feebly, still thrown off-kilter by the sudden outburst of concern from his friend.

“Wonderful. I shall wait for you at the stables.”

His ghastly magenta cloak billowed behind him as he was the first to leave the room. Raven sidled up to him and he felt her intention before she spoke the words.

“Are you sure a riding trip is what you need to calm the tumult beneath your breastbone?”

“Yes, I am sure,” he said. “What I am beginning to regret is the choice in company.”

Raven smiled widely and hummed a tuneless hum as she took Kitty’s arm and they left, saluting Logan and Kurt who were conversing about something or other.

“Well, I shall take my leave, too,” he said, somewhat lost, and Logan grunted while Kurt offered his goodbyes with an awkward wave.

Did he even possess the kind of scarf Erik alluded to?

***

The wind was indeed cold and cutting across his cheeks. He buried his face deeper into the thickest wool scarf he had found in the depths of his wardrobe.

Erik was ahead of him, a game of chase having had launched by a simple smirk thrown Charles’ way. Ridiculous. That man was going to be the death of Charles. He smiled softly into his scarf as he stared down at his brown leather gloves curled around the reins. He would not mind if that were the case.

And then Cerebro caught up to Mauvelle at the curb in the path as they galloped hard and fast through the forest.

And Charles looked up in time to see Cerebro nab at Erik’s rippling cloak.

With horror he watched as Cerebro pulled his head back and Erik released a strangled sort of noise, almost toppling back, but he pulled on the reins and Mauvelle slowed down rather abruptly. Charles followed suit and they stared at each other, both with cheeks beaten red by the unforgiving wind and Cerebro munching on Erik’s cloak without a care in the world.

It took Cerebro snorting and then being distracted by the patches of grass to the side of the path for Charles to give in to the laughter that had been bubbling up in his chest. Erik joined him and they laughed themselves silly, choosing to trot side by side on their way back.

***

_ Dear Mother, _

_ I am overjoyed to find you are well and that you have taken the reins of the business with minimal hindrances. The company could not have been left in better hands. _

_ Mr Wagner — he requested we should address him as such. It is not him reneging his protector, but more a desire to stay away from everything that such a name as his protector’s entails. He wishes for a simple life, and not I nor you should condemn him for his choice. Mr Wagner has been doing swimmingly well. There have been some hiccoughs during the first days, but Mr Howlett has proven to be the rock in his stormy sea. They have grown closer as the days have gone by and now it is a rare sight to see one without the other. I believe there is more than meets the eye, but it is not my business to pry in other gentlemen’s private affairs. _

_ Speaking of private affairs, I must confess that the last paragraph in your previous letter has had me at a loss for words, Mother. I believe that you were trying to convey something to your son, but your son being uninitiated in such delicate matters as symbolism did not parse through it. So I shall not dwell upon it. Rather, I would like to confess to feeling noticeably different than the evening I left you. Nothing wrong with my health, not to worry. But what I am trying to say is that certain— feelings have made themselves known to me in quite strange ways. Oh, but I should also disclose the root of these sentiments, what caused them: Charles. I am quite aware of society’s views on what I am about to confess, but I dare not confess them to anybody else because it is you, Mother, the person whom I trust the most in the world. Charles and Kitty come close to that, but since Kitty is rather taken with Mrs Darkholme from what I have surmised and Charles is the cause of my current predicament, I have only you to turn to, Mother. _

_ Whatever should I do with these strong sentiments? I do not possess the necessary presence of mind to control them. Just yesterday I dared touch Charles’ hand. Out of nowhere! Please, dear Mother, tell me that I am not going out of my mind! He is my closest friend! It would crush me if he were to discover what ails my heart and refuse to associate with me no more. _

_ In other news, I expect to leave the hospitality of the Westchester manor within the next few days. There is nothing that could excuse my presence here, although I suspect that Charles might object to my departure. However, I cannot put you to much more trouble with my business, even if you have assuaged most of my worries. What sort of a son would I be if I let my own mother work in my place! I know, you would most kindly declare that I would be the son you raised. Nevertheless, duty calls my name, Mother, and I am compelled to respond. _

_ Your loving son, _

_ Erik Lehnsherr _

***

“Dear me, Mr Lehnsherr,” the head housekeeper said as she caught the vase before falling to its death on the floor. 

“Oh, I apologise,” he said, bunching the edge of the cloak in his fist and bringing it at his back. “I did not mean to—”

“It is quite all right, Mr Lehnsherr. No harm done.” She smiled warmly and then scuttled away, leaving a pensive man in her wake.

***

“Whoa!” Kitty gasped as her shoe caught in Erik’s cloak and promptly fell on her fours.

Erik jolted out of his armchair, quickly putting the book down on the table and bending to help his sister up. He didn’t think she came to any harm what with the many layers of puffed up skirts she was wearing. Was there a ball in the vicinity of the hours to come?

“Brother,” she said, her nose scrunching up signaling that she was miffed. “Might you reconsider your fashion sense? Perhaps something less— cumbersome.”

She pulled her skirts up and marched out of the drawing room.

***

Mr Howlett’s claws shredded a significant part of his cloak when he stepped out and paused on the doorstep just as the updraft flashed his cloak straight into Mr Howlett’s face.

He proceeded to give Erik the stink eye throughout the whole day when Erik produced a new cloak.

***

He readjusted the cloak where it was strapped to his vest. Charles was just coming out of the room in front of which he paused to tend to his accessory, but when Erik stepped to the side to let Charles pass, he almost fell back on his arse, arms flailing about himself.

_ “Charles, _ not you too!” he said, more than a bit annoyed.

He knew his friend stepped on his cloak on purpose when he offered his beatific smile in response.

“I apologise, my friend. I did not see it.”

Erik left, grumbling under his breath, part of him unable to move over how Charles’ whole face lit up, and the other part feeling betrayed by his own friend. What was so bad at his cloak that everybody seemed to have trouble with it?

***

“I see that your cloak is missing.”

Erik’s nose twitched. “It seemed to give everybody grief, so I decided against wearing it.”

“Is that so,” Charles said, hiding his amusement.

***

Another letter with the royal stamp on it arrived at the Westchester residence and with a resigned sigh he opened it and read the contents. He had been in correspondence with the Royal Chamberlain the past week. Apparently, Queen Victoria had been out of the country at the moment the ball debacle happened which explained why Charles nor Edie received any royal visit almost three weeks since. Reading the newest royal letter, another sigh was pushing at the seams of his mouth. But with moderate control he managed to swallow it down.

He felt Erik’s mind nearby, so he mentally knocked and invited him into the drawing room, currently unoccupied by anyone apart from Charles. He also extended an invitation for a game of chess as he had laid out the pawns before busying himself with the letter.

“A royal letter?” Erik asked upon entering the room. “Mother said that she had received only one two weeks ago.”

He was donning a white shirt with a black vest that had a pocket watch, its fine chain dangling in burnished gold out of the left pocket. 

Charles poured tea for Erik as he took his place opposite Charles, making haste into putting any and all thoughts about Erik’s arms or the trim waist out of his mind. The trouble with the drawing room was that it was considerably smaller than the other ground floor rooms, thus the spaces between furniture were also considerably smaller. As such, his right knee was at a half palm distance from touching Erik’s left one.

“Our presence is requested at the palace on Wednesday next week, which is the only day our Queen can receive us,” Charles said without preamble. He sneaked a glance at Erik who looked as if he had been watching Charles all along. “We have no say in this. The Lord Chamberlain is rather cross with both of us for not coming forth with an explanation already.”

“That old weasel has never seen my business with favourable eyes. It would not surprise me should he choose to pin everything on my ineptitude to live up to the noble strata.” Erik scoffed. “Thank you.” He accepted the tea and sipped. “Ah, exactly how I like it. Thank you, Charles.”

The pleased smile curled his lips almost without Charles being aware of it.

“Shall we begin?” Charles prompted.

Erik leaned forward, placing his cup of tea on the tall table nearby while the lower one was rolled over between them.

“After you,” he said, grinning because this was their own private joke and Charles responded in kind.

They bantered back and forth about their own powers, during the entire game, and if there was a limit to them because neither had felt that. At first they used outspoken words, but then they switched to mental quips, which Charles found Erik preferred. He thought that the man was just amusing him at first, and that it would wear off eventually, so he never initiated a mental conversation with him without knocking first, not like he did with Raven. But he observed that Erik pulled Charles into the mental space more often than not. It was— rejuvenating for Charles, to use his ability so extensively that he actually managed to get entire nights of consecutive sleep. He always woke up feeling as if he had been snuggled against something warm and welcoming, but he never found out where that feeling came from.

_ Maybe it has something to do with me feeling so relaxed around him, _he thought, not realising that he had let it float into Erik’s mind.

They were both staring at the chess board, so Charles caught the moment Erik’s hand paused atop one pawn. He looked up and found his friend staring openly at him.

“You are not always relaxed around me?”

That was when Charles realised his mistake and leaned back.

“Well, not— not always. I mean, I always feel myself around you. I do not need to wear a mask or pretend I am something I am not. But sometimes I am more relaxed than other times.”

“When are you more relaxed around me?”

“Now, for example.”

“Is it because we have spent so much time together?”

Charles inclined his head, considering. “That might be a significant part of the reason why. I would also say that I find it easier to be myself around you now that you know about my telepathy. More so since you seem to embrace it wholeheartedly. Even with Raven I do not always use my ability, but with you—” he trailed off, glancing away from Erik’s intense gaze.

“With me?” he prodded.

“It is— I find it as easy as breathing. When I slip into your mind, I mean.”

Erik smiled, a pleased thing that sat beautifully on his face and made him look rakish. The moment Erik’s eyes widened a bit, Charles knew that he committed the second mistake that day. He did not as much send a thought into his mind as he let some of what he was feeling at that moment pour across their mental connection. And Erik _ felt _that.

“Charles—”

Already Charles shut down the connection between them, bodily trying to meld himself with his armchair.

“No, Charles, please,” Erik pleaded, leaning forward, reaching slightly across the chess board as if he wanted to touch Charles. “Please do not shut yourself away from me, my friend.”

Charles looked at him as if those words were physically painful.

“I am sorry, my dear friend, that you had to feel that.” And he stood up, but he did not move further than a step before Erik caught his elbow over the chessboard.

“Charles— why have you not told me?”

“Because I care deeply about our friendship!”

Erik stared owlishly at Charles. “I care about it, too, old friend, but—”

“And what you have felt just now are not mere platonic sentiments,” Charles said roughly, then had to clear his throat.

Another minute of silence passed between them, a strange look on Erik’s face. Was he trying to understand something? Perhaps reconsider their friendship? Or think of something appropriate and gently distant to let Charles down? 

“And I presume you already thought about the moral and social implications of that,” he remarked, something in his voice sounding off.

Charles summoned a pained smile at the small, decorated table near him. “It is with that thought in mind that I have kept them to myself— until now, that is.” He took a deep breath, then sighed, feeling how he was coming apart at the seams. “I do not want to lose our friendship over sentiments that have developed without my realization.”

Erik frowned. “Why do you think that would happen?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“You seem to be under the impression that confessing your feelings negates our friendship, which I do not understand. Is our friendship that fragile that it would crumble under heavier sentiments?”

Charles swallowed and wet his lips. “I should think not,” he said, hesitant, but also hopeful.

At that, Erik allowed for a smile that was mostly gathered at the corner of his eyes. He was about to say something more, but just then Kitty walked into the room, stopping short when he saw the two. Erik let go of Charles’ elbow with reluctance. And Kitty saw that.

“Oh my, apologies, I was not aware that the room was occupied.”

“No need to apologise, Ms Katherine.” The name slipped, having been thrown so off-kilter that he pulled his social persona without conscious thought to the surface.

“Really Charles? Ms Katherine after all this time?”

Charles bestowed upon her a gentle, if slightly shaken smile. “As a gentleman I cannot always trespass that fine line.”

“But you call mother Edie!”

“Ah, that is a different matter.”

“Do not fret, Kitty,” Erik said, and he still had to take his eyes off Charles. “I am in a similar position myself, and we interact more often. One would believe that after such a long time Mr Xavier here would begin using one’s given name. Alas, he is too stubborn for his own good.”

Kitty snorted, which prompted both Charles and her brother to throw her a look.

“That has all the noise of a pot calling— oh, stop looking at me as if I just ate a whole cake with my fingers! Have you never heard a woman snort before?”

“Not a woman of my household,” Erik said primly, and Charles slowly sat down and took a sip of his tea to hide the grin and wash down the chuckles that were trying to escape. Erik did not look like he would shun Charles for what he was feeling.

Euphory might not cover what Charles’ whole body was feeling at that moment. He needed more tea.

Kitty puffed, took her skirts into her hands and saw herself out of the room without even closing the door behind her.

“This is the result of me allowing her too much freedom.”

Charles smiled widely. “I could not imagine you trying to control the behaviour of the Lehnsherr women more than you participating in derby day races.”

Erik rearranged the seams of his vest and sat down.

“Why? Would I look so ridiculous riding one? We did go out riding the other day, and I also recall last summer you complimented me on the utter control and elegance with which I guided your prized stallion.”

Charles almost choked on the sip of tea he took as the memory flooded his mind. He had put that unfiltered comment on the hot weather the countryside had been having for the past week. It had made Charles sweat by simply walking from his manor to the stables.

But seeing Erik mount his black stallion in only a pair of white pants, high black boots, and nothing but a white shirt, had marked Charles’ ability to form coherent, cohesive sentences. He had looked sinfully wild, hair in disarray, flushed cheeks and eyes so blue, excitement dancing in their midst, that the oxygen had failed to reach his brain and by the time this tempting man pulled over in front of him, Charles had not been in complete possession of his control. When that wide, toothful smile greeted him, Charles’ mouth went off without a second thought.

“Let us not dwell on the past, my friend, shall we?” he said with the last remnants of dignity he possessed.

_ So, _ Erik sent mentally, which startled Charles into looking back at him, unprepared for this change, _ following that line of thought, I still find it is such a waste that you chose to spend most of your time here, instead of parading the social circles. _

Charles lifted an eyebrow and Erik smiled crookedly. He was dazzling when he smiled like that.

_ Imagine how many secrets, _ he went on, _ you could have in your pocket by simply attending balls and charity events. _

Charles huffed a laugh. _ Are you implying that I should gather blackmail material on the London nobility entirely for selfish purposes? Why, Mr Lehnsherr, that would be treason! I would never betray the Queen. _

It was Erik’s time to huff a laugh. _ With your power and my power, I don’t think she’d want to trifle with us. _

_ Oh my, Mr Lehnsherr, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say that you are trying to incite a coup d’état. _

_ Tell me, Charles, do you really call me that even in the privacy of your mind? _

Charles jolted as if someone pinched him when he wasn’t looking. It took his mind a bit to formulate a response. All the while Erik waited patiently with his fingers steepled and that amused glint in his eyes that conferred his features a wild, dangerous charm to which Charles’ eye was so attuned.

_ I am not in the privacy of my mind now, am I? _

Erik smiled. _ So you do admit to it. _

_ I made no such admission. _

He looked as if he wanted to tease Charles more, but he seemed to reconsider at the last moment. The matter of Charles’ sentiments was left in suspense. Erik did not comment further upon it, but Charles did not feel any sort of malicious or negative thoughts coming from him. And he might have helped his friend build stronger mental defences, but at no point did Erik forbid Charles from reading his surface thoughts or even conversing with him through the mind link they had established.

Still, he could not feel appeased by that, only. Not when among other thoughts, Charles caught the one that whispered words such as _ departure _ and _ business _ and _ mother. _

He knew Erik would not be able to stay at his manor for ever, but he had hoped. He had hoped something akin to that could be accomplished. Alas, Charles should have foreseen that.

***

After lunch, Logan was reading a book Charles recommended on his not-so-comfy settee. His balcony door was opened to let in the chill air of the sunny day, trying to ignore the kids milling around the ground floor, listening to Charles’ and now Lehnsherr’s long lectures on proper etiquette and other shit like that.

That was Raven’s and Kitty’s free day, and they were currently out riding— and hunting. He remembered hearing them planning their trip and the distinct click of a gun barrel clicking shut.

Two weeks had passed since they came to the manor. A bit less than a week since he and Elf became more generous with their touches. They even ate with the others. And the others, curious as they were, did not take long in noticing the way Kurt behaved around Logan and the other way around.

Speaking of, he absently wondered where his elf was, currently the only one he never heard coming or going, although he sometimes smelled him before he turned a corner, but only if he was downwind. And not because he teleported. He did that seldom, which was unusual when he had such a handy means of transportation at his beck and call. The most he got out of him was that there was some place in-between when he disappeared that he didn’t like the looks of it, so he preferred to walk instead.

“Logan.”

He smirked at his book even though he had been reading and re-reading the same boring paragraph for a while now. He had to admit that he liked it when his elf announced his presence by calling Logan’s name, even though Logan never asked him to do that. It added to that special something their relationship had. 

He didn’t acknowledge his presence, which prompted Elf to come pluck the book from his hand and read aloud the boring paragraph.

“Since when does this topic fascinate you?”

But instead of answering, Logan decided he wanted to play a bit with his elf as he made it a habit to do when they were alone, so he grabbed his slim wrist and pulled the man on top of him. He grinned sharply at the yelp, book falling somewhere behind the settee.

“Bored of learning the ins and outs of the manor?” he asked, enjoying the close up of his elf’s face.

A frown deepened the dark blue fur. He liked the easy-going relationship they had, how natural he found himself sharing physical space and touches with this mutant. Most of the others he tolerated at best. But his elf— he couldn’t deny there was some chemistry between them, otherwise neither would be fine touching each other randomly, sometimes embracing the other from behind or even cuddling.

Like that, for instance.

Feeling Elf’s weight pushing him down into the cushions was something Logan found he relished. But he found it extremely alluring and pleasant when it was his elf initiating contact or demanding it through a touch— and most of all when he hugged Logan from behind, how he had to push himself a bit on his tiptoes to hook his chin over Logan’s shoulder. That was his favourite.

“I have already learned where every room in the manor is, hidden or not. Early on, I was downstairs, attending Charles and Mr Lehnsherr’s lesson.”

The grin didn’t lessen. “And you were bored out of your mind, ain’t it?”

Kurt placed his hands, one near Logan’s head on the armrest, the other between his shoulder and the back of the settee. His own hands came to lie lightly on Kurt’s ribs.

“No, but the new mutants were kind of distracted by my presence, so I excused myself and came to visit you.” He narrowed his eyes at Logan, and he found it increasingly endearing. “Why didn’t you come down to share some of your knowledge with them?”

“Trust me, Elf, you don’t want me to do that to those kids.”

Kurt grinned and Logan felt even more compelled to just kiss him. But he was in no hurry to tip the balance of their relationship. He could be patient.

“I didn’t mean that you should hold a lesson on etiquette. We both know you’d just teach them how to ruin a party in five minutes.”

The grin turned mischievous. “I’m pretty sure I could do that in three.” His voice was a deep rumble, low and intimate because it was only for his elf. That space was only theirs alone, and Logan relished that he could have Kurt like this. Open and relaxed and _ his. _

His instinct was settled and happy.

But Kurt wasn’t grinning anymore which made Logan’s smile dim down as he searched his elf’s face for an inkling as to what could have made him frown again.

“What’s bugging you, Elf?”

Kurt leaned back on his knees, so Logan sat up, too, not wanting to let the distance settled between them. He ruffled the crop of hair that was always in disarray just for the hell of it.

“I— No. Nothing.”

He wanted to stand up, but Logan caught his hips, stopping him.

“Elf, I know that look. Something’s bugging you.”

He assessed Logan’s face, the muscles in his jaw working. There was definitely something worrying his elf.

“I— don’t think is best if you know.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at that, his interest ten times more piqued than before.

“How so?”

Kurt’s gaze roamed over Logan’s scruffy face, face neutral except for the shadow in his eyes. There was a hint of fear there and Logan couldn’t fathom what could be the reason for that. He looked down, refusing to comment further, so Logan waited. As he learned early on, most of the times his elf needed a bit to tell him what was bothering him. And Logan could be very patient with people that mattered to him.

“Can we lie down?” Kurt asked instead.

Logan leaned back on the cushion he placed over the arm of the settee without a word, Kurt following. A long time passed in which they only shared silence and body warmth. His hand went into his elf’s hair without even being aware of it, a habit he had developed from the many nights they spent sharing the same bed, usually Logan’s.

He watched the tail move around in lazy undulations. Elf wasn’t stressed. Not in that moment. Good. So whatever was bothering him wasn’t something big, although the tail did twitch every once in a while. Logan found himself time and again wondering how it would feel to touch it, let it envelop around his arm or leg. Only once he woke up with it around his ankle, a loose loop, but by the time he fully became aware of it, Kurt had moved and the tail had done the same.

“Are you gonna use me as your pillow, Elf? If so, you could’ve brought back the book I was reading.”

“You don’t even like that book,” Kurt murmured from where his head lay on Logan’s chest.

“What gave it away?” He grinned, combing through his hair. It was, after all, his favourite thing to do when he had an elf-shaped body on himself.

The list of favourite things Logan had concerning Elf was steadily growing.

Kurt lifted himself up and let most of his weight on his right forearm. “You were still on the first page of the first chapter.”

“Chuck said it was interesting.” He half-shrugged.

“Charles. When are you going to use his name properly?”

He grinned. “So will you tell me what has you all closed doors and long faces?”

Kurt stared for a while longer before he answered. “I have been feeling an unusual — what is the English word for it. Wants? Uh, no, something with ‘u’. _ Verlangen.” _

“What are you trying to say?”

“It’s the word for strong desire.”

“Urge?”

“Yes!” He took in a deep breath. “I have felt this rare urge to be close to you.”

Logan’s eyebrows lifted, half amused, half confused by the words. “We’ve been doing that for days now.”

“No, not that.” And then he brought his thumb over Logan’s lower lip, caressing it and tracing its path with his eyes.

That was when Logan understood what his elf was trying to say. His hands, until then simply lying on Kurt’s hips, began caressing his lower back and then his backside. Kurt sucked in a breath and met Logan’s gaze when Logan’s knuckles skimmed the base of his tail. 

Logan waited. He could see the war in his elf’s eyes, how he still was not sure if he wanted to tip the balance of their relationship or not. But the cat was already out of the bag. In Logan’s opinion had been out and about for a long time already.

“Will you be— are you okay with this?” Kurt murmured and Logan pressed his thumbs into the muscles at the base of Kurt’s tail.

The reaction that brought on had Logan floored and very much turned on. Kurt gasped and undulated his lower half across Logan’s front, their flaccid lengths pressing against each other for precious moments.

“I’m all yours, Elf,” he said instead, his trousers becoming less spacious around his crotch in the span of less than a minute.

The words made Kurt stare at Logan as if he had said something crazy and absurd like mutants don’t exist.

He waited once again to see how his elf would react. Which direction he would want them to move in— or stay. But Logan could see the decision in his eyes before Kurt leaned down, his eyes on Logan’s lips only. He stopped shy a few centimetres, meeting Logan’s gaze one last time before he pressed their lips together.

Logan couldn’t help but close his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips, how they moulded on Logan’s, the taste of him, scones and a bit of elderberry marmalade. He didn’t push for more, just let Kurt explore and find out what he liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole sequence where people were giving Erik hell for him wearing a cape was inspired by this fanart of a Charles passive-aggressively having his wheelchair stomp on Erik's cape: https://jackyjango.tumblr.com/post/183553940260/msfbgraves-palalife-happy-tuesday-this-is


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stanza Edie writes to Erik is from Shakespear's "Much Ado About Nothing" Act 1, Scene 1.

**.8.**

***

The last letter his mother sent from London was lying open on his desk in his room. Even as he was arranging the suits and toiletries that Janos had brought from London on his first trip, those verses churned and scraped at his mind. With a frown, he returned to his desk and read the Shakespearean lines one more time.

_ Dear son, _

_ Four of his five wits went halting off, _

_ and now is the whole man governed with one: _

_ so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, _

_ let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; _

_ for it is all the wealth that he hath left, _

_ to be known a reasonable creature. _

_ Lovingly, your surfeited mother, _

_ Edie Lehnsherr _

Why was his own mother insulting his intelligence in such an egregious manner? He felt a cold slap would hurt less than that letter. Had he done something to have incurred his mother’s disappointment? But he had been away from London for the past three weeks. It must have been something he had said in his previous letters. Ah! If only he had made copies of them, he would be able to read them again and find the culprit, so he could apologise.

“Mr Lehnsherr?”

Erik turned at once. Charles was standing in the open doorway to his bedroom looking ill at ease.

“Charles? Is something the matter? Please, come in. Are you feeling unwell?”

A tremulous smile made his pale face look worse for the wear. Erik bridged the distance between them in no time, but did not touch his friend. Not when he looked like he was coming apart at the seams.

Charles stepped in and Erik closed the door, but his friend did not move from the middle of the room, eyes observing the open suitcases on Erik’s bed, the letter on his desk and his notebooks.

“Please, my friend, what has you so stricken?” he asked again, coming to stand in front of him.

“Why did you not tell me that you wanted to leave?” Charles said softly, no accusatory tone in his voice.

Erik’s eyebrows arched. “I was about to.”

“On the day of your departure?” The accusation sprang forth along with the most wounded glare his friend could have bestowed upon him.

“I—” He was at a loss for words. “I have no excuses for this. I have been a poor guest in your care. I deeply apologise for my uncouth behaviour.”

“Must you leave?” 

“I must.”

“Could I not convince you to stay?” There was a plea tucked behind the words and Erik’s heart was breaking every second that passed and he had to gaze upon Charles’ devastated face.

“Oh, my friend,” Erik said, heartfelt as he dared cup one upper arm in his warm hand. Charles leaned into it almost at once and Erik felt the air about them charging with such meaningful glances. “I am afraid I cannot impose on your hospitality a moment longer.”

He stepped back and turned to go to his suitcases.

“Even if I demand you do so?” Tendrils of stubbornness sneaked into his voice and Erik turned back at once just to see that gorgeous face set with determination.

“Charles.” If his voice could cradle Charles close to himself, it would have already done so simply by the way he had spoken his friend’s name.

Why was it so hard to keep himself from touching his friend? Why was his hand so eager to cup Charles’ warm cheek and feel the rightness of it all when Charles placed his hand upon Erik’s and leaned into it? His departure was imminent! Such— such a situation— 

With a gut-wrenching will he tore himself away from Charles, not knowing why he was resisting that when he knew that Charles’ affections for him went well beyond those of a friend. When he knew that his own affections for his dear friend measured the same length and intensity.

***

“Erik—” 

Charles bit his lower lip, his whole body coming to a halt for a split second before everything went haywire. He hadn’t meant to say that, but he needed to say something to stop him from leaving.

Erik turned slowly towards him, but did not bridge the distance. His face was a mask of the most impenetrable kind. Charles could not read anything: on it or behind it. He only encountered a smooth wall made of what he could only guess as being steel. Charles had lost the privilege of gleaning even surface thoughts somewhere between the previous day and that morning. It hurt in a way that he felt it in his chest, sharp like a dagger.

Yet, he had made up his mind on this. He had had the whole night to torment himself with scenarios and he was not going to let those sleepless hours go to waste, societal norms be damned! No matter how much on the cusp of falling into a pit of despair he felt with each passing moment.

“I— I would not be in high spirits if you were to depart.” He searched Erik’s face desperate for even a crumb of emotion, something to grab a hold of, but Erik gave him nothing. “As you already know, my sentiments in regards to your person have developed rather alarmingly over the past years, and I apologise if the reminder of this indisposes you, but I feel that a rift would create between us if you were to leave. And I care for you, my friend. I care deeply for our friendship, and to lose it would be tantamount to losing a limb.”

“Say it again,” he demanded in a soft tone.

“Beg your pardon?”

Really, he would not have thought he would be so frustrated for not being able to hear surface thoughts. The silence surrounding them — surrounding Charles’ gift — was jarring and confusing to his senses. He had never gone a day without passively hearing somebody’s thoughts or the impression of feelings, even less so when it came to Erik, the man who Charles had been so attuned to since the first time they met.

“Say it again, Charles. I want to hear it.”

Charles opened his mouth, frowning as he tried to remember what exactly he had said that had been so out of the ordinary for Erik to demand he repeat it.

“I care about you deeply?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want me to repeat?” Charles said, letting the frustration getting the better of him, feeling the frown deepen and his lips press into a tight line.

How was he supposed to navigate this conversation without any input from his telepathy?

Erik smiled, a sharp thing that made him look like— like a predator, if they only had one in Great Britain that resembled that. He took two steps towards Charles and the height difference became more evident. So frustrating was it to look up at the man and not be able to kiss that smirk off of his face.

“Say my name again,” Erik said, soft again, anticipation building up in his eyes.

His frown let up at that, his whole face relaxed into surprise. “Ah… well.” 

It took him a bit to calm his mind, the delighted feeling bubbling to the surface, the butterflies stirred anew by the soft voice, the roughness of it when he touched the ‘y’s and the ‘g’.

“Erik,” he said just as soft.

Erik— yes, Erik, not the distant Mr Lehnsherr. He now was allowed to say it out loud, not just in his mind and sometimes under his breath when he was sure to be alone. 

“Erik,” he said again, meeting the dark gaze and being aware of the hand that was touching his cheek as the man was leaning in. “Please stay.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“I cannot impede the selfish desires I have collected across the years from burning me from the inside out,” Charles said, almost in apology. “I know this is selfish of me to ask, but you know about my strong sentiments and— and you have not shunned me or severed our ties to each other, so please allow me a last selfishness and do not depart today.”

“Oh, my Charles,” Erik said softly, palms framing his face and his gaze making Charles’ knees grow weak. “But it is no selfish desire to wish we spend more time together when I feel the same.”

“You do?” He forgot how to breathe, how to smooth his expression, how to hide his feelings. “You are not just amusing me right now, are you? I would not be able to survive if that were the case. Please tell me you are at your utmost seriousness right now.”

“Look for yourself.”

And Charles did not even have to think about it as he entered Erik’s mind as soon as he felt the barriers melt into nothingness. His eyes grew impossibly wider.

“Why, my friend,” he said, breathless as Erik’s own sentiments flooded him like the most gentle sea wave. “Why have you not told me about this? You and I, we are the same.”

Erik’s expression became fond and somewhat guilty. “It shall sound silly now, but even after you accidentally let me feel some of what you felt for me, I still put that happening on you being caught in the moment and not intending anything beyond it.”

“Oh, Erik.”

He smiled widely as he leaned down. “I am enamoured with the way my name sounds on your lips. Now I know I should leave my thanks with you for not bending to my requests and use my given name all these years.”

His cheeks warmed, but he could not contend the wicked smile from taking over his whole face.

“Why? You would have probably realised your feelings earlier and we would not have danced so many years around each other.”

“Truth. But what if I tell you that I liked the slow dancing?”

“And the mutual pining, even if you were not aware of that?”

“Everything! You are an exquisite creature, my Charles. I am overjoyed that I managed to experience you in small doses and enjoy each one for long periods of time.”

Charles felt an eyebrow arch at that. “So you prefer me in small doses. Anything more than that and you might have a heart attack?” He disentangled himself from Erik’s hold, keeping the mixture of giddiness and slyness off his face. “Then I shall excuse myself and let you—”

“Charles,” Erik admonished softly, his fingers encasing his wrist. Yes, he was beginning to love that, the touches, the words, the fact that he was free to tell Erik everything he felt and not fear rejection.

He threw a coy look over his shoulder, his lips straining to keep the smile from taking over his whole face. 

“Yes,” Erik began, “I have enjoyed the small doses over the years, but now that I can have you close to my heart, I would like to increase them.” He tugged, and Charles went, but only one step.

Erik narrowed his eyes and tugged again, but Charles did not follow. His mind was sending a lot of thoughts, impressions, and feelings Charles’ way, and Charles basked in that like a swan bathed in a lake on a hot summer day. But then confusion and second-guesses filtered through and Charles smiled more widely.

“You said you are prepared for larger doses,” Charles said innocently and Erik sighed and tugged harder which saw Charles lose his balance and topple into Erik’s arms.

“Something tells me that I shall have my work cut out for me.”

“Nothing you could not handle with your hands.”

He felt and heard how much Charles’ cheeky grin was getting under Erik’s skin, but he was still surprised when his lips moulded over Charles, softly at first before Charles threaded his fingers through Erik’s styled hair, unravelling it. That was what he needed to press Charles against him more insistently and devour his mouth like Charles had fantasised countless times across the years.

“My friend,” Charles sighed and Erik continued to pepper kisses along his jaw, arms gliding over his back and gripping him closer still.

“Am I still a friend even now?” Erik asked as he descended on his neck and Charles closed his eyes in pure delight.

“You will always be my closest friend first and foremost.”

Erik sighed against his neck and paused, content to feel Charles close to him, although Charles heard flimsy thoughts that demanded they be unclothed at once. He smiled and pressed soft kisses into Erik’s hair, behind his ear.

“I wish I could say that I do not fear society’s retribution if you and I are found out.”

Charles nuzzled slowly into his hair. “I know.”

“But I cannot let you go now more than I could repudiate my own mother.” He leaned back and looked down at Charles. “You are that dear to me, and I fear that I might not be able to behave with decorum when we both find ourselves at esteemed gatherings.”

Charles caressed his cheek, eyes roaming freely and unrestrained over his beloved’s face. Ah! How many a night he had dreamed of such a moment where he could look his fill and let his emotions play on his face without fearing discovery and repudiation.

“Then I suggest we spend as much time in each other’s company, in private, as we can before we brave the strangers.”

“Have my fill of you in private is a dream come true.” No sooner had he finished saying those words that an improper image filtered through into Charles’ mind of him against a door and Erik on his knees.

“Mr Lehnsherr, it is barely morning!” he said with mock-indignation because he could not deny the effect that image had on his nether regions. “We shall be rang for breakfast downstairs in an hour or so.”

“Ah, but ‘tis just an hour I need to properly take my fill of my own beloved.”

Charles’ cheeks were considerably warmer than before, but in his defense the images sauntering unrestrained across Erik’s mind (and his own) were too raunchy to not make him feel unruffled. He kissed Erik, feeling that now he could freely do so in private, but the kiss grew heavy and deep and although their trousers allowed for considerable crotch room, their interest had been piqued, there was no denying it.

Then Erik’s naked hand dipped underneath Charles’ sleeve to palm his naked wrist and they both gasped as if they had been suddenly struck by the most _ risquè _lightning bolt. 

“Charles, my Charles,” he whispered fervently and Charles could only sigh in contentment as he mentally expressed his assent to be utterly ravished by Erik even if he never made such an inquiry.

Unless the suggestive images were any indication.

***

“We shall be called any moment now,” Charles whispered reverently into Erik’s inner thigh, both of them naked and in bed. “Are you quite certain—”

“You tease! You mad, mad darling! Get on with it, will you! You have unraveled me so much by now that I would be severely cross with you should you stop now!”

Indeed, after Erik had his way with Charles and thoroughly consumed him to the point that Charles would be feeling him every time he sat down even on the plushest armchair he possessed, he had found his appetite for the man growing.

Laying more kisses alongside his inner thigh and even biting softly just to see the hitch in breath, the dark, lustful gaze, the love there, he made his way towards his interest, sitting at half-mast against his stomach. 

“Exquisite,” Charles whispered.

Erik smiled. “Are you about to eat me or make good on your promise of incredible pleasure?”

“Mm, I am considering the former. Such delectable display.” He leaned over, taking him in hand and beginning a slow, lazy stroke while his mouth made a path for itself along the side of his stomach and pausing at his nub.

“Charles,” Erik breathed out, hand carding through his ruffled curls, “you wicked, wicked man,” he continued, gasping softly as Charles began to play with his nub, tonguing and sucking it in quick succession. “You want to see me beg for it, is that right?”

Charles pushed himself forward, above Erik’s head, his hand not faltering much. They gazed at each other, mostly communicating through images and emotions, and Erik gasped when Charles promised that he would keep him looped in for the moment he would breach him. They would find their release faster.

He kissed the corner of Erik’s mouth languidly while he changed his hand with the other so that the oil and come-sluiced one could begin prodding at Erik’s entrance. 

“I want to see you enjoy yourself, my darling,” he murmured before he kissed Erik as filthily as he knew how.

Erik’s wanton moans attested to the level of filthiness Charles managed to bring, and his hips began thrusting upward into Charles’ hand even as he entered him with two fingers. He received a lot of assent through their mind link, enthusiastic _ yesyesyesyes _and Charles kissed him until both their lips were red and spit-shining and a bit swollen.

Erik’s free hand was placed atop Charles’ hip, encouraging him, and Charles did not need to be told twice as he, too, was straining at the seams with a second orgasm. The input from Erik’s mind was certainly helping. 

He breached his beloved slow and careful, focusing on both Erik’s mind and his face for any trace of discomfort. He should have known by then that Erik would be insatiable. The demands for _ more _ and _ harder _were clamouring in their minds and Charles huffed a shaky laugh as he bottomed out. He paused to let them both breath, but even before he began to get his wits about, Erik was becoming impatient, his hips moving whichever way to the point where Charles had to place both his hands on them to put a stop to the maddening pleasure.

He was not going to last if he let Erik have his way. So he began a torturously slow pace, grinning with the utmost delight when Erik threw filthy curses his way, both mentally and verbally. Watching his beloved coming apart beneath him was the most superb sight he could have ever laid eyes on. He forgone telling Charles what to do and simply sat back and enjoyed the pace Charles guided them through. Already he was feeling himself come apart, so he sped up, Erik’s hand tightening in his hair even as Charles leaned down to pepper kisses along his jaw.

They both found their release out of nowhere and it took them two full minutes to get themselves back into a semblance of coherence. All the while their minds were tangled together into a loop of pleasure and bliss that echoed for a long time.

Erik napped for about ten minutes, head cushioned on Charles’ chest as Charles lazily caressed his shoulder or carded through his hair, softly kissing his forehead every once in a while.

Voices from outside the window roused Charles to Erik’s grumbled dissent as he tried to catch him and drag him back into bed, but Charles was not the one with his eyes closed.

Looking out of the window he saw Kitty and Raven mounting their horses and then galloping off towards the forest. Ah, of course. It was Sunday, the day off at the mansion when everyone could do whatever they pleased, even the cooks (thought they usually left food prepared for them before going into town). They would not be rang for breakfast, after all.

“Charles.” His voices sounded clear and very much awake. Charles looked back over his shoulder with a smile. “I would like to say that you should get your gorgeous arse back into bed before you catch your death, but the painting you present in this very moment would have both artists and writers scramble to immortalise you.”

Charles’ smile turned into a mischievous grin and Erik narrowed his eyes as he got up from the bed, utterly naked like Charles was. “So you would invite strangers into our bedchamber? Why, Mr Lehnsherr—”

Erik dragged him rather suddenly into his arms and Charles could not forestall the sneak attack because Erik’s mind had been deflecting his attention from his real thoughts by sending him the image that he presented as if he were looking into a mirror. In that moment he knew how Erik was seeing him, his almost alabaster skin hallowed by the grey morning light, his eyes bright and resplendent, the playful smile that made Erik want to gather him close to his chest and never let him go.

Still, he could not stop the ungainly squeak as Erik playfully tickled his neck with his lips and teeth.

“You shall drive me to distraction, if you continue to use my surname like that,” he said, relenting on the tickles, but not on how tight and possessively he kept Charles plastered against his front.

“Like what, Mr Lehnsherr?”

Erik smiled with a mixture of fondness and resignation. “You fiendish man. You shall be the death of me!”

“My dear Mr Lehnsherr it is Sun—” He yelped when Erik picked him up bridal style at once.

“That is it, you wicked darling! I have had enough of your teasing!”

He received all the input about how much Erik delighted in hearing Charles’ unadulterated, unrestrained chuckles as he was unceremoniously dumped into bed and thoroughly kissed.

***

_ Dear Mother, _

_ With regret and apology I must inform you that my return to London shall be postponed until a later date as my dear friend Charles had insisted with utmost stubbornness that I should extend my stay here. I am overjoyed to appease your worries Mother and confess that our friendship has not suffered one iota of tragedy. On the contrary, I find that our friendship has resurged most resplendent in the wake of a deep and meaningful conversation that happened the previous day. _

_ Still, I must pose my deepest apologies for giving you so much grief over the past years, Mother. You have been the saintest of the saints in waiting patiently for me to catch up to Charles. A most generous present shall be yours in due time. _

_ Your most loving son, _

_ Erik Lehnsherr _

***

_ Dear Edie, _

_ I have a hard time contending the immense joy that is floating within myself at this very moment. Everything has come to a beautiful conclusion, and I must confess that I did not expect Erik to be— the gentleman that I have discovered he was. Now, my dear Edie, no untoward thoughts upon reading that! _

_ There is no joy grander than finding myself and my dearest friend in accordance. Finally, there is harmony in my life and the life at Westchester manor. We are expected at the royal palace this Wednesday, after which, if her Majesty is not too ill-disposed and has us in manacles, we shall come by to bring Erik home. _

_ With joyous anticipation I await our meeting! _

_ Yours, respectfully, _

_ Charles Xavier _

***

“Do you think I should ask my tailor to find the best material?”

“What for, my dear?”

“A cloak, of course.”

“Mr Lehnsherr.”

“Charles.”

“If I promise to have my wicked way with you against the nearest surface or wall, will you reconsider ever wearing a cloak on any other occasion but for masked balls?”

“Only if you increase the amount of such balls held.”

“... I shall take that upon most serious consideration.”

“I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“Now, now, do not force my good will.”

“I would like to have my down payment now, if it is possible. I am feeling rather itching to wear a cloak.”

“Oh my.”

_ “Yes.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. We've finally reached the end of this fic. Thank you all who took time to read it, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did (even if towards the end it fought me tooth and nail, especially the Cherik scenes which I added during the past two weeks leading to the (old) deadline which was 12 October).
> 
> The next chapter contains only Kurt\Logan scenes, which were written months ago before I decided I wanted this chapter to be the ending (they would have messed with the flow). So because I don't want to delete them or let them die in the doc and feel as if this story has not ended, I rolled up my sleeves and finished them, too. **They add nothing to the plot. It's basically just fluff, so you don't need to read the next chapter if you're not interested in Kurt\Logan.**


	9. Extra scenes Kurt/Logan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No plot to be seen here. Just Kurt\Logan fluff... and sexy times. Enjoy.

***

He entered Logan’s room with a copy of fragments written by Sappho and translated by various authors that he had found in Mr Xavier’s extensive library. Logan was sitting on the chair nearest to the window, sewing a hole in his work trousers.

Kurt recited,

_ “She keeps her scents _

_ in a dressing-case. _

_ And her sense? _

_ In some undiscoverable place.” _

Logan met his gaze, amusement diluting the concentrated frown. Kurt’s heart leapt as he made his way towards to windowsill, facing the front lawn, and read the next fragment, his lips trembling with the shape of the words as he memorised them. He closed his eyes and recited.

_ “A short revealing frock? _

_ It's just my luck _

_ your lips were made to mock!” _

He heard movement behind him before a wall of warmth enveloped his back without touching. Logan’s steady breath warmed his thin-clad shoulder, a soft huff as if in amusement.

His rumbling murmurs as he recited another fragment made Kurt open his eyes.

_ “I desire _

_ And I crave,” _he said, his amusement poorly disguised.

And then, almost at once, they both read the next translation of the same fragment, the difference being that Logan recited it out loud, the grin making the words sound round and too full, and Kurt’s cheeks warmed up.

_ “I lust! _

_ I crave! _

_ Fuck me!” _

The last line was growled into Kurt’s ear, his whole body a live nerve as Logan’s arms encircled his midriff, bringing Kurt flush against Logan’s front, and Kurt gripped the book tighter.

He half turned his head towards Logan with an inquisitive, contemplating gaze. “Do you— want me to?” he asked, low and intimate, searching his face. “Or would you rather—”

Logan planted a kiss on his cheek, grazing the fine fur there with his lips afterwards. “Whatever strikes our fancy, elf. If you want to fuck me, go right ahead. I have no particular preferences. Besides, don’t you think it’d become boring after a while if one only receives and the other only gives?”

Kurt hummed in agreement, eyelids fluttering at half-mast when Logan continued to caress his cheek with his lips.

He turned the page and whispered the next lines: _ “I am weary of all your words and soft, stranger ways.” _

And Logan nuzzled his nose behind Kurt’s ear, breathing him in deeply. Kurt almost melted right there and then, his hands trembling. Logan murmured the next translated fragment, longer than the other ones, but no less striking and sensual.

_ “My brain is wild, my breath comes quick,— _

_ The blood is listening in my frame, _

_ And thronging shadows, fast and thick, _

_ Fall on my overflowing eyes: _

_ My heart is quivering like a flame; _

_ As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies, _

_ I am dissolved in these consuming ecstasies.” _

Kurt took in a sharp breath, the last line shaped into his neck, a sound strangled in his throat. The strong arms covered his stomach and kept him plastered to Logan’s front. So plastered, in fact, that he could feel the fast beating of Logan’s heart. If it was because of the images and feelings those fragments evoked or because Logan, too, was assaulted by the same sort of nervous anticipation, Kurt could not be sure. But he did melt into his arms, and he did tilt his head to the side, allowing Logan to breathe him in, pepper his fine fur with kisses, nuzzle, and even, occasionally, bite gently.

He hummed, stroking Logan’s forearms absentmindedly, squeezing every once in a while when Logan was less gentle.

They kissed as if they both had been on a journey with a pre-set destination in mind: unhurried, slow, and, most of all, enjoying the taste of the other. Their lips smoothed over each other without urgency until Kurt’s neck began hurting, tilted to that slightly awkward angle, because Logan was becoming more intent and less slow. Kurt bit Logan’s lower lip in warning and Logan narrowed his eyes, but relented with a little smile.

Kurt pushed himself out of his arms, even if Logan was stubborn in letting him go. But he didn’t go far. As soon as he was out of that warm and strong embrace, he turned on his heels and pressed Logan into the wall near the window, kissing him with so much fervour _ Logan _moaned.

He grinned from ear to ear when he finished thoroughly ravishing Logan and Logan looked like he had been lying about his alcohol tolerance.

***

“Logan?”

It took a bit, but eventually Logan grunted, his lips planting a kiss in Kurt’s hair, almost as if on reflex. Kurt’s eyes were still closed, his ear half-pressed to Logan’s chest, the open flaps of his nightshirt reached all the way to the centre of it allowing Kurt to breathe him in, feel his warmth and beating heart.

“I would like to explore your body.”

Again, Logan did not answer immediately, and Kurt began to think that maybe Logan had not been awake the first time, but then he moved, repositioning their legs so that his kept Kurt’s prisoners, and then Logan’s hand tilted his face up by the chin.

“Now?” he asked, even as he leaned down to press soft kisses to Kurt’s lips.

Kurt hummed, relishing the touch, the intimacy, the care. Logan’s other arm was still trapped under Kurt’s head, coiled so that it kept his head in the crook of his arm. 

“You could go back to sleep,” Kurt said in the respite between one feather kiss and the other. 

“And leave my elf unattended? I don’t think so.”

“Well, I wanted to let you know beforehand,” Kurt continued, before he frowned and Logan was quick to press his thumb and smooth it over.

“Before you jump me, eh?” 

Kurt smiled in response to Logan’s grin. 

“Don’t think I could sleep even knowing what you’ve planned,” Logan said. “Actually, _ despite _that.”

He studied his face trying to see more than his night vision let on, but Logan was smiling with his eyes mostly, his expression open and playful. So Kurt did not step on any mine. Then another idea bloomed.

“Why?” Kurt smirked. “Are you trying to tell me that you are sensitive to touch?” 

The hand that was not trapped between them was already caressing Logan’s side in a ticklish manner. He quickly caught it and brought it up to kiss the knuckles on it, mirth in his eyes, before he placed it over his chest so Kurt could feel Logan’s heartbeat.

Logan bit his lower lip, and Kurt was unsure if it was because he wanted to keep at bay a grin or because an indecorous idea came to him.

“You’ll have to find out,” he murmured before he captured Kurt’s lips again, but this time deepening the kiss until Kurt moaned and gasped softly. “I’m all yours, Elf,” he proclaimed, relenting the bear hold he had on him.

So Kurt got on his knees and Logan made himself comfortable on his back, one arm thrown on the pillow, a crooked smile on his lips. Kurt’s heart sped up at the nonchalant, debauched image he made, the top of his nightshirt open so the little hairs on his chest were fully visible, the hem of the long shirt riding above his bent knee.

Kurt’s mouth went dry, but he needed to focus. He had an idea and he wanted to explore it, see what it gave him. _ Where _it took them. So with a slightly trembling hand he reached and cupped Logan’s knee, his gaze fastening over Logan’s face for any kind of reaction. Logan did not show anything more than the smile in the corner of his eyes and lips, his unwavering attention on Kurt. 

Slowly, but not too softly, he pushed his palm over the mound of bone and onto his thigh, revealing skin bit by bit. Logan still did not show any outward change, so Kurt bent and kissed the top of his thigh, throwing a glance at his lover who _ still _did not regale him with anything more than the fondness on his face.

So he straddled Logan’s thighs which pulled a raised eyebrow, but Kurt was not interested in that anymore. He had wanted to explore his body, had he not? And Logan had acquiesced, so that was what Kurt was going to do. Logan helped by raising his hips when Kurt pushed the nightshirt all the way up to his chest.

He dragged the covers up so they pooled around Kurt’s lower back and shielded them from the chill in the room.

He glanced again at Logan, out of reflex, and he saw the change, how the fondness dimmed down to allow for another expression, smoldering and patient. Logan’s soft length was bare millimetres from Kurt’s clad one, and he felt his knees enveloped in heat as Logan palmed them, caressing absent-mindedly.

Kurt caressed his way up across Logan’s chiselled stomach, fingertips returning over the soft valleys between his worked muscles and then up tangling with his chest hair. Logan’s palms, too, were on a journey of their own, up beneath Kurt’s night shirt and he exhaled shakily, caught in his lover’s consuming gaze.

He wanted to kiss Logan again. They were both wide awake now. And very interested. 

He bent down and kissed a trail across his left ribs, hands not pausing from mapping out Logan’s sculpted stomach. Logan, on the other hand, made his way up on Kurt’s arse, massaging it ever so slowly and making Kurt undulate his hips before he reached the base of Kurt’s tail and took hold of it.

Expletives ushered like intrepid sparrows out of Kurt’s mouth when Logan began stroking his tail up and down as if— 

“Logan,” Kurt whispered, momentarily distracted from kissing a path towards Logan’s nub as he arched back and closed his eyes in pleasure.

“Feelin’ that, are we?” 

The rumbled words had Kurt open his eyes a slit just to take in the way Logan looked at him, as if he was something holy and beautiful. Then Kurt let his interest glide across Logan’s and he gasped, feeling everything twice as much with the way Logan had taken possession of his tail.

Then he felt Logan’s fingers caressing his lips and he took two of them in, sucking on them without much care that they tasted slightly of tobacco and sawdust. He sucked on them until he lost himself in the triple sensation and his saliva began coating Logan’s palm. By then, his hips were already engaged in their own little friction, encouraged by Logan’s hand on his tail.

He almost gasped when Logan pulled his fingers and then enveloped them both in the wet hand. That was when his slow strokes began changing pace and urging Kurt to go faster. He could do nothing but to keep himself upright on his arms bracketing Logan’s torso and let his lover guide him.

They were both breathing heavily as Kurt let himself go with the flow, thrusting his hips up into the warm, wet tightness that Logan’s fingers were making. Feeling his hot flesh create the much needed friction against Kurt’s own was making Kurt an incoherent mess of sounds and gasps. 

Then Logan squeezed the base of his tail and Kurt’s breath caught in his throat as his whole body came to a sudden halt. His climax was pooled in the pit of his stomach, ready to find a way out, but still not quite there. And then Logan began passing his thumb over the tip of their interest in earnest and Kurt’s eyelids fluttered as he could not quite concentrate on his own breathing because his whole attention was relocated towards where they were connected.

“Come for me, Elf,” Logan grunted, and Kurt felt him tense just as he was.

Before long, he felt his climax course through him and mix with Logan’s on his chest. They were both breathing hard and the chill in the room was accentuated by their skins covered in a sheen of perspiration.

Kurt took the nearest cloth he could find, which was Logan’s day shirt draped on the chair, and cleaned him up as best as he could. Logan didn’t let Kurt be out of bed for long as he pulled him right back against him and into a long, lazy session of kisses.

“I’ll draw a bath tomorrow first thing in the morning,” Logan murmured sleepily.

“Mm, that sounds wonderful.”

“Night, Elf.”

“Mm, night, love.”

Logan’s arms tightened around him before he turned them the other way and Logan was half-draped over Kurt’s frame. He found he relished the weight and build of his lover. It made him feel cared for and safe.

He had found his home, finally.

Just before he fell asleep he sent a silent prayer towards his protector, wishing she was as happy as he felt up there in Heaven. But maybe the place he would find her would be in Hell where, her circle of friends had always joked about that, she would feel right at home.


End file.
